We had to put Babykitty down yesterday afternoon. I don't post about my personal life here often, but her health had been declining rapidly over the past week or so. It reached the point that her quality of life was so low that it would have been cruel to force her to keep going.

I got Babykitty when I was about...4 years old. It wasn't easy. The house is too quiet right now.

Simba, our oldest cat, who left us years ago, was kind of a nanny to me. If that was the case, then Babykitty was practically my sister growing up.

When we got the boys, Speedy and Ying-Yang, she was the one who kept them in line. Speedy, despite being an agile, big tom, got put in his place on a regular basis by itty bitty Babykitty.

We're looking into rescuing a kitten some time this month. I know I’m not replacing Babykitty or filling any holes—nothing can fill the holes these animals leave in my life—but just...loving another animal as I loved her, as she loved me, because that’s what I’m here to do.

If nothing else, I’m sure my father is happy to have some familiar company, where ever he is. I’ll never forget how stubborn Babykitty was when he passed. The EMTs and deputy came in to do their thing and no matter what they did she didn’t budge from his side.

I miss her something awful already though. It's strange to walk into the master bedroom and not have her chirrup at me from the bed.

After losing Lonny, though, I feel my view on pet death changed for the better. Lonny was sick from the start. He fought very hard for such a little gecko but in the end I want to believe he needed to pass so I would have an outlet for my grief over my father—he went 4 days after my dad did—and so I could bring Zen into my life and nurse him back to health because, unlike Lonny, his condition was treatable. Had Lonny not gone, who knows what would have happened to Zen?

Maybe there's another cat out there who needs me help now, and that's why Babykitty felt it was time to take her leave.