A couple of days where I spent less time on my tush than usual, and man, are my feet sore! Today, with minimal intent, I racked up the following stats:

* Jawbone – 9,577 steps, 4.4 miles
* Fitbit – 10,647 steps, 4.74 miles

Seriously, I can’t figure these things out.

Even more seriously, today marks two weeks since Lizzie, my beautiful cat, died. Miss Lizzie was 10, a long-haired calico diva, and, weird to say, a little friend. She joined our family when she was about five weeks old, fluffy and confused. Little R Featherstone (who was about 7 1/2 at the time) named her after Lizzie McGuire (at the time, her favorite TV show).

Lizzie was a loyal cat. She had her favorites, and when someone not on her list came into the house, she let them know about that list with a hiss and a swipe. One snippet of joy I received every day was the sight of her at the top of the stairs when I came home from work. There she sat, lovely and majestic, waiting patiently for her cuddle or scratch behind the ears. When I had sad days – and these were more frequent than I’d like to admit – she snuggled, allowing herself to be held far past the normal limits of a cat’s tolerance.

I think our move did her in, causing her enough stress to stop eating, which in turn messed up her liver. She went from 18 pounds to 13 in a matter of about a month (I never said she was svelte), and she retreated from socializing, preferring instead to hide under R’s desk. It took every ounce of strength she had to try to jump up to sit with us on the couch, and really, she couldn’t do it without my help. She stopped grooming herself, and her silky fur became matted and blotchy.

Two weeks ago, I had had a kick-ass day. Work went well in the morning, and I tackled a bunch of tasks that really needed to get done. Got to spend a little extra time with Bob that day. Things felt terrific. Then, I looked behind the couch, and found her.

In the end, she couldn’t stand the pain, I imagine. It was too exhausting to go on any longer, so she went to her favorite pillow in a quiet spot and simply went to sleep.

Three years ago, during Hurricane Irene, Lizzie and I evacuated to my parents’ house. My two kids were away, safe and dry in another state, so I scooped up Miss Liz and her supplies and camped out with my parents for a couple of days. My parents, who hadn’t had a cat for many years, welcomed her. Ever since, whenever I visit my parents, I see a flicker of Lizzie out of the corner of my eye. Over the past two weeks, I periodically catch a glimpse of her in our house. Gone, but never forgotten.

Farewell to sweet Lizzie. She touched our lives, made us smile, protected us with her bad self, and trusted us to care for her. We loved her and will miss her greatly.