For Charcoal

The other day my parents had to put our last cat, Charcoal (she was black, and liked to hide up the chimney when we practiced our instruments), to sleep. Her brother, Custard (he was orange and white) died a couple years ago of natural causes in the house, but she was lingering, and starting to suffer. She was the last cat that we owned from my childhood. I didn't fly home for the funeral (in fact there was no funeral), so instead I have written her this prayer/eulogy.

Almighty God, Creator of Heaven, and Earth,
Creator of all that is, including cats,
Thank you for Charcoal and her life.

Thank you for the joy she gave us, for the memories, for all the stories we have to share of her hairbrained escapades and her bizarre ditzy behavior, of her meowing constantly whenever we pet her, of her opening doors for her brother, and of her getting so involved in being pet that she fell over.

Thank you for being such a loving and creative God, and having so much creativity and power, that you bothered to make creatures that seem to exist largely just to keep us company and give us joy. Charcoal certainly did that, even if we did get frustrated with her fetish for dipping her paws in water glasses that were left on the table, and then knocking them over.

Thank you for her life, which was good and long and full of love. Forgive us (at least my brother and I) for tormenting her when we were young, but I hope she knew that we loved her. After all, I might have toyed with her by handing her empty cans of beans when she thought I was opening Tuna, but most of the time it was tuna, and seriously, what other cats ever got to lick tuna cans? Who drains tuna cans into bowls just so their cats can drink the juice? I mean, if she didn't know we loved her, I'm not sure what else we could do.

So thank you, God, for Charcoal, and for the memories, and all the joy and fun and love that she helped us share. May she rest in peace.

Amen.