Wicket Shelly

The universe gives us presents in the form of people and animals that have touched our lives.

I've discovered that a home becomes a world when one loves one of its inhabitants...

That is what happened to me through my beautiful cat, Wicket, a tortoise shell Persian who died on Independence day, (four July, 2002), at 9:30am in the morning. She was fifteen years old. Her absence in this house is like nothing I've ever experienced.

We had moments that cannot be assessed in words - they live on in the solution of memory, like wonderful treasures.

Those immense journeys we took together, real (like our move to Mexico) and alone together on the terrace here...exploring the world from her vantage point, we would look at the newly living plants and flowers and at this huge sky full of clouds. I do believe she loved this house, her world.

I will always miss her big copper colored eyes and her soft cob-web voice; the way she had of letting me know 'exactly' what she wanted. She was the cat with an attitude, but she was patient with me and would hold my hand in her paw. She was my best friend for so long. I loved her.

Now that she sleeps, the spirits will begin their work, and Wick will live again somewhere and bring grace and enchantment to her new life.