PORTIA ELIZABETH

Portia came to live with me when she was two years old, a beautiful gray long-hair with green eyes and 24 toes, six on each paw. She was frightened by my other cats, but wore her fear as haughty aloofness. She was easily the smartest, most beautiful and most difficult cat I've ever known. Portia wanted to be an only child. She wanted parents who waited on her hand and foot. She wanted to be royalty. I took to calling her Portia Elizabeth because of her regal attitude. She carried herself with all the poise and confidence of a princess and that is exactly what she came to be for me. She had been an outdoor cat with her previous mom, so she insisted on a similar arrangement with me. Even though I tried to make indoors seem irresistible, Portia demanded time outside and wouldn't hear the word no. She even insisted on using the front door for her exits! At first I worried about her on those occasions, but she quickly showed me just how careful and cautious she could be. And how smart. A good hunter, she once captured a live sparrow to bring to me. It flew around the house for a day before I could catch it.

Portia always seemed so strong of will and mind that I didn't realize how fragile her little body was. Although only 9 this year, my girl suffered a stroke and slipped away before I could even get her to the emergency clinic. My broken heart is only soothed by the notion that Portia is somewhere warm and lovely and full of light, and some day if I am good, I will see her precious face again.

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