Sasha was probably the most anti-social cat I’d ever had, but she was still very special. She had been a gift to me from my ex-husband on our second Christmas together after getting married. I had seen her kitten picture on PetFinder.com and instantly fell in love.
We were living in Denver at the time and drove from a southern suburb to a northern one to meet her at the Longmont Humane Society. Someone had found her on the side of the road, but she was still too young to be adopted, so they wanted us to wait a couple of weeks. Then she caught a cold, and they wanted to keep her longer to make sure she was fully recovered. So she was about three months old by the time we finally took her home.
We adored her and spoiled her. She never had any litter box issues, but the first time we left her alone she peed a tiny bit on the couch where each of us sat. That was a clear message, but it only happened once.
The same Christmas that we adopted her, I also found out that I was pregnant. And her life changed dramatically when my son was born. She would run around my pillow and eat my hair at night, so I started closing the bedroom door, so I could get some precious sleep. The bedroom door remained shut at night for the next eight years. But she had the rest of the house to roam around and often slept on the futon in my son’s room.
When she was two years old, we joined the Foreign Service. I took her in the car with me and A on the three-day journey from Colorado to Washington, DC for training. She rode either under my seat or on top of piles of luggage. But her favorite spot was next to A where he was strapped into his car seat.
She was always very protective of my son. She used to hiss at unknown children or growl if someone came to the door. Once when a visiting friend was tickling him, she had a full-on screeching meltdown, and we had to throw a towel over her and carry her out of the room.
She lived in five countries: the US, Belize, England, Iceland, and Switzerland. And she was always a champion flyer…remaining quiet as a mouse in her carrier under the seat in front of me. Only once did she crap in it when I’d forgotten the travel routine and fed her too close to departure time.
In Belize, our house was so big that I put a collar with a bell on her, so we knew where she was. Her favorite place was the massive screened in patio where she could sit and watch the tropical birds. In London, she had a large windowsill and could look down into the communal garden next to Abbey Road from our third-floor window. She remained the feline queen of the castle.
But the next couple of years were tough on her. When we were posted to Iceland, there was a mandatory one-month quarantine. So she spent four weeks in their facility while we were on home leave in Arizona. When I went to pick her up, she turned her back to me.
Three months later, we adopted a dog, and she spent the rest of our tour growling and hissing at him from the stairs, which I always imagined must’ve been a bit cathartic after quarantine. We had another large house though, so we put in a baby gate with a small pet door for her and kept the dog on the main level, so she could move around freely upstairs without being harassed by the puppy.
When I got divorced, and A and I moved to DC, we downsized into a small two-bedroom apartment, and the pets were forced to integrate. She started appearing in the living room and even joined us on the couch. I left my bedroom door open, and she slept with me most nights from then on.
Switzerland was a blur, and we were soon back in DC. I bought a condo, and she again had a second floor to hide on, but by this time the pets actually seemed to enjoy each other’s company. So we would all hang out in the living room together while I teleworked during the pandemic. Eventually I went back to work in person, and I would usually find them still hanging out when I returned.
She loved tennis balls, Christmas wrap, and laser pointers. In our current condo in DC, she could often be found on my bed by the window watching the birds and squirrels. Every dog bed that I bought was usually too small and eventually became hers. In the last year or so, she had taken to falling asleep at night with her head in the palm of my hand like a pillow. And if you sat on the couch long enough, she would always jump up and sit next to you…or follow you to the bathroom.
In our last few weeks together, I spent as much quality time with her as possible. On the weekends we stayed in bed as long as the dog’s bladder would let us and watched the birds and squirrels. We cuddled on the couch and watched a bit of Cat TV on YouTube or British Bake Off on Netflix.
Sasha passed away in the comfort of her home surrounded by people who loved her. She is survived by her human mother and her two brothers (one human and one canine). She will be missed.
