What's S'Happening with the Stockwells: Luna B. Stockwell 1995-2014

* I'll preface this by saying that I had always thought it was a bit strange when people made such a big deal about a pet dying. It is, after all, a pet. But, of course, everything's different when it's your pet.

A week ago tonight, our sweet old kitty Luna began a steep decline that ended with us having to say our final goodbyes the very next evening. Though there were many times over the past few years when I had wished for a house free of kitty puke, white furballs, and incessant howls, the reality of having to say goodbye to Luna was harder than I had imagined it would be. Luna was the first (and only, thus far) pet of my adulthood - the first creature for whom I held total responsibility. She came to me in the Fall of 1998, a three-year old shy kitty who spent the first couple of days tucked up into my roommate's mattress. That was always her safe place. Her shyness was short-lived, however, and she soon came out to befriend us, quickly becoming the people-loving cat that she was for the fifteen plus years she was a part of our family. After a few years on Columbus Avenue, Luna and I jumped the river and tried a cohabitation arrangement with her friend (loose interpretation) Harry in Cambridge. From there, it was up to Hanover for a couple of years - one in a tiny, tiny apartment where we were completely on top of one another, and the other in a big farmhouse where there were loads of mice to catch. It was during the Hanover years that Luna fell head over heels in love with her future stepdad, and by the time we all moved down to Brookline in the Summer of 2004, Ben had fully adopted Luna as his own. He became her primary caregiver, and in return, she loved him to the moon and back. Soon, Luna was not our only baby, and as we brought one, and then another shrieking baby home, she loved us just the same, and was gentle as could be with her new siblings. She loved her last move to Maine, where she got a bigger space to explore, a sunny mat in the kitchen on which to take her naps, and even a taste of the great outdoors.

Throughout her nineteen years, Luna was strong and healthy. Although her quick demise was tough to process, it was a blessing for Luna to have had only one bad day. Even on the morning of her very last day, the vet remarked at just how good she looked. Luna took care of herself all the way until her end, and I will forever remember how soft and smooth her fur was when last I touched it. Luna was loved by many, a true "people cat". Kids were drawn to her, and no matter how many times they pulled her tail or picked her up against her will, she was always patient and gentle. She had a knack for finding the cat-hater in the room and trying against all odds to make him love her. At times, she even succeeded! Luna never really liked to be picked up and carried, but she would always find a lap to curl up on (usually Ben's), and would settle into a delighted purr. Luna had her quirks too. She had more than her fair share of hairballs, went through a middle age rife with a propensity to eat all the hair off her stomach (probably related to said hairballs), drooled like a teething baby, and had a howl that was unlike any I've ever heard. She howled most when she was looking for Ben, and her cries became more frequent when age and senility made it harder for her to find him. But her quirks all contributed to what made her Luna, our very special cat.

We are missing our Luna Bear. A tuft of white hair on the carpet, her untouched food - a clue that something was clearly wrong with our wet food-lover, her empty carrier, our quiet house (in the evenings - our house is NEVER quiet otherwise) - these are hard reminders of a soul that once inhabited our house and hearts and is no longer. We are happy to have enjoyed Luna's company for the last fifteen years, and we are thankful for a long life well-lived, and a quick and peaceful goodbye. Rest peacefully, our sweet Luna Bear.