Squeaky

 Thirteen years ago I offered my daughter a cat for her 15th birthday.  We went to the local animal shelter to check out what they had for adult cats.  I had never seen so many cats in one place.  Quickly we narrowed our choice down to Pepper, a petite young adult.  Betsy named her Ferris. 

This little cat talked constantly.  She talked in  a high pitched squeak.  Soon she was Squeaky to me.  She followed me around the house doing laundry, dishes, chores  (no chore was too boring for Squeaky) and she became my little pal.

Squeaky loved quilting.  When she was young, she would sit next to me and watch every quilting stitch.  She would sit next to the sewing machine as I sewed bindings.  Unlike many cats, she didn't try to grab the thread  or fabric.  She just watched.  She loved  a freshly ironed quilt top.

As she grew older, she slept during much of our quilting time.  The top picture was taken two weeks ago.

 She died last Wednesday, April 24.  On Thursday she was buried in my side perennial garden  near a lilac shrub.