Precious Lucy Kuntz

I was 3 years old when we brought her home. There was an ad in the paper for free kittens and my parents took my brothers and me to choose one. Precious and her sister Sunshine both needed a home, but we could only take one. I can’t remember why, but the decision was easy and during the next 19 years, I never regretted choosing her. Precious Lucy Kuntz immediately settled into her place in our family. She was so energetic that she would tear around our two-story house at night until the early hours of the morning. What she enjoyed most was touring her vast estate, our 80-acre West Virginia property. Her chief responsibility was to catch mice, but that was just to keep my dad off her back. She spent most of her time catching mice outdoors rather than indoors and sleeping. She was so loyal. After she was spayed, we brought her home feeble and groggy and put her at the bottom of the stairs in a basket. In the morning we found she had dragged herself all the way up the stairs to sleep in my room with me.

I found in her a friend and playmate; a companion to keep away the scary dreams and shadows in my room at night and someone to talk to when no one else seemed to understand. I dressed her up in scarves and hats and carried her around in baskets, but she never complained, other than an occasional scratch. During the next few years we moved a few times and had a few dogs die, but Precious kept going strong. One time she disappeared for a few days and we thought she had been killed by a wild animal on one of her hunting sprees. Tears were shed and prayers were said but I’d given up hope. On the fourth day, she came back. A neighbor told us they’d seen her get hit by a semi-truck, but somehow she’d survived and after recovering enough to walk, had come home.

We grew older together. She played less and ate more. My mom spoiled her with every kind of special cat food available. . . So much for catching mice. She loved to sit in windows and watch what was going on outside. She adored sleeping in baskets and on warm beds and fresh laundry. The years seemed to fly by. When I was 7, my best friend and I threw our pets birthday parties. For Precious’ birthday, we invited our friends and planned games and activities. While we were all outside playing, Precious snuck onto the table and devoured her birthday cake [a whole can of cat food]. Through the years she was given many nicknames: Preshie, Poohbears, Stinkerpoo, Roo Poo, Presh Poo, Stinkerbums [my personal favorite].

I supposed we all knew it was coming. She was 19 after all, which is pretty old for a cat. She was having trouble with her kidneys and had an infection in her teeth, but the vet seemed to think she still had some pep left. I mean, cats have nine lives right? Unfortunately her aging body wasn’t able to sustain her fiery spirit any longer. When I called my parents today, my dad broke the news.

No one truly understands the loss of a loved one except those who loved.
I don’t like cats, but I loved Precious.