The whole house felt different yesterday — like the air itself paused. Princess
Rian sitting in the window all day over the spot that Tazzie spent her last few
weeks… that wasn’t just a cat staring outside. That was a sister keeping vigil.
She chose Tazzie’s place, the way grief chooses the places
that still smell like someone we miss. Cats don’t perform emotion; they just feel it, and she felt it deeply.
I spent some time yesterday reflecting…yes, reflecting over a cat, with my memories wrapped in warmth:
Tazzie’s story didn’t start in a quiet home — it started in Mina’s wild little kingdom. Mina, our rebellious queen of the outdoors, bringing her four babies on the patio like, “Hello, we are home.” Four tiny chaos beans tumbling around, chasing shadows, ignoring the perfectly good cat house I bought and assembled for them like a responsible adult. They chose the patio because of course cats always pick the thing you didn’t buy.
Then the disappearances. Two yellow tabbies gone overnight, like they slipped into another dimension. Princess Rian up a tree with two dogs plotting her downfall and me to the rescue. Mina furious at a weeklong indoor captivity after I captured her and had her fixed and me watching over the remaining two like a worried dad who pretends he’s not worried.
And then in May 2022 — the month everything changed. Cooper arrives, a puppy with the energy of a malfunctioning wind-up toy. Tazzie and Princess Rian watching him sprint around the yard like he’s auditioning for a slapstick comedy. Cooper watching them like they’re magical woodland creatures. All three of them were probably born on the same day, destined to be this strange little trio.
In June 2022 I finally brought the girls inside, Princess Rian became the world’s most committed hider. Under the bed. Under the treadmill. Under anything that could hide a princess. Tazzie, meanwhile, stayed quiet, observant, a little fragile. Infections as a kitten, a body that always needed a little extra care.
And then a few days later came, Bobbi -now Meep Meep — the chaos agent who named herself (story to come) arriving like a tiny lightning bolt. She and Tazzie playing, chasing, mischievous, nudging Princess Rian out of her shell, turning her into the social butterfly she eventually became. Tazzie stayed the watcher, the quiet one, the tender one, and now the skittish one. The one who didn’t demand love but soaked it in when it came.
She had a small life in some ways — gentle, careful, observant — but she had a full life. Loved by all, loved by her sister, loved by Cooper, loved by the whole house. And yesterday, the house remembered with continued tears.
