Remembering Gnocchi

We received devastating news yesterday morning, our cherished cat Gnocchi was struck by a car and killed a block from our home. He'd been missing for two days. An outdoor-indoor tom cat, who spent more time in than out, we prayed that he'd been enticed by someone else's kitty food and would return. But after 24 hours with no sighting, we put up fliers and hoped.

The news was crushing. I have always been a dog person. Gnocchi helped me open my heart a little wider. The kids adored him, even the dog thought he was cool, barking to alert us when his little spotted pal need to go out. He had love to spare and the brain power of four standard poodles combined.

We haven't told the kids. We don't plan on it. And I remain so very sad. Sick really, thinking about a speeder plowing into our super-smart, super-friendly 2-year-old cat.

Last night, Charlotte climbed onto my desk chair, grabbed hold of the computer mouse and up popped our "Lost Cat" poster. "That's my favorite kitty," she purred. Mine too sweetie, mine too.