Every cottage needs a cat. For 16 years, this sweet, tiny patch-tabby named Lily has been my cottage cat – and my constant companion. She’s the first cat I ever had that actually responded when called by name, or would come to me when I called her even if I wasn’t shaking the treat can.
She was so vocal it was easy to catch her in what I called “mid-sentence” – I have several pictures of her meowing and they always make me laugh.
She’s also the only cat I ever saw do what Garfield used to call the nap attack: plant face-down into a comforter or pillow and just… be asleep.
She could curl up into a ball less than 12 inches in diameter, or sprawl out with one foot outstretched in command of her chosen surface.
Her true age is unknown. We adopted her from a neighbor in 2008, when she was at least a year old. Within a week of coming to our house, she went into kidney failure. The neighbor and I split the cost of a very basic treatment based on a guess that it was stress-related. She survived and went on to live 15 more healthy, happy, spoiled years.
She moved with me when I divorced in 2014, first to an apartment, then to “the dollhouse” and later to the mobile home, Lynnwood Cottage. When I began working full-time from home in March, 2020, the cottage cat became my immediate supervisor.
She disliked having her picture taken and always seemed to know if that’s what you were up to. She’d put her ears just slightly back in a look of annoyance.
She loved to be petted, but hated to be picked up or carried around. She loved treats, licks of butter, and tiny bites of cheese. If I was walking from one end of the house to the other she’d try to lead the way, but always just a little too slow and always looking back over her shoulder to see if I had “turned off” into the office or bathroom – leading without knowing exactly where she was going.
Lily crossed the rainbow bridge on August 11, 2023, approximately age 16. Losing a pet is hard, but having a pet like her for so long was a joy. I miss you already, Poopers.