Casper
April 8, 1995 – February 1st, 2010
Rest in peace little buddy.
On April 8th, 1995 several little white kittens were born in a town called Bartlesville, in Oklahoma. Eight weeks later I would meet these little kittens and pick one for my very own. I was 15 years old, and very excited to be getting my very own kitty! When we arrived we were led out back and several tiny little white balls of fluff were put down on a table in front of me. I could have my pick. I remember looking down at the group of identical little white kittens and thinking “How will I ever choose?” As I stared down at them though, something kept drawing me back to one specific kitten, eventually I picked him up. He didn’t squirm, or struggle against me as I held him close. He was soft, and warm, and snuggled himself right up to me. He was the one, my new kitty. On the drive home the kitty laid in my lap and quietly slept all the way.
It took no time to name him. A friend of mine suggested I name him ghost. I didn’t like that idea because I wanted him to have a name suitable for a human. It did, however, prompt my mind to think of Casper. I rolled the name over in my head a few times staring at the little kitten in my hands, it fit, so it was settled.
Casper and I quickly became very close friends. He would snuggle up next to me and sleep all night with me in my bed. He would lay on my back when I laid in bed to read or do my homework. One of his favorite games was to lay on his back in my arms and play with my long hair. He followed me around everywhere I went, I couldn’t even use the restroom without him being there. He was never much of a mischief maker, though once he did manage to open a cabinet in my room and dump his entire box of catnip. He had that stuff all over the place. He could tell when I was angry, he responded quickly to my voice when I told him a firm “No” and paid no mind to anyone else when they did so.
Casper was a comfort to me during my late teen years. He was always there, no matter what kind of day I had, soft, purring and unconditionally loving. Eventually I grew up, got married, and the time came to move to Connecticut. Casper, of course, came with me. He spent three days in the car with us and once we were there, he helped me settle into the new place. He was comforting, familiar, always chasing at my heels. Now he had a new person too, my husband, who he quickly grew to love.
After much thought and discussion my husband and I decided to expand our little family. 
Casper was not thrilled the day my husband and I came home with the tiny, new addition. A tiny grey and white cat we named Kenny. It took time but Kenny quickly came to love Casper and Casper to tolerate, then eventually accept, Kenny. Kenny turned out to be the only cat that Casper would ever really bond to, let alone snuggle with. They had a very special relationship.
For fourteen years Casper was my constant companion, seeing me through good times, and bad. Always there, always underfoot, happily chatting and wagging his tail all the while. He still slept with me every night and I knew, this past Friday, when he never came to sleep with me, that something was terribly wrong. Kenny knew it too. When we crated Casper the next morning to take him to the vet Kenny rubbed at the crate and tried to run out the door after my husband. As they drove away I held Kenny close and he snuggled in tight, he wouldn’t let me put him down when I finally tried. When he finally got down he stood in the kitchen, howling, just as loud as he could. While he would always come running when Casper was upset he had never acted quite like that. He knew, somehow.
Our little house is lacking without Casper’s antics. Running up and down the stairs, thumping his feet loudly on the wooden steps on the way down. Running circles around the downstairs, and when he was younger, literally trying to climb door frames. He was a unique little fellow. He was always happy especially when the wood stove was roaring or when he was out on the screened porch on a warm summer day. We miss him like crazy but are comforted by the fact that he lived a happy life and suffered minimally.
~Tribute to Casper~
The house feels empty without you.
Walking around the house without stumbling over you.
Brushing my teeth without having to share the stream of running water.
Getting in and out of the bathtub without tripping over you.
Rolling over in bed without worrying about rolling onto you.
Casper, I just don’t enjoy it at all.
The wood-stove looks lonely without you sitting under it…
and come summer, little buddy, the screened porch is going to feel empty without you too.
The house is silent without your meow…
and without the sound of you thumping down the stairs.
I don’t know how you did it, buddy, but you made a lot of noise for a little guy.
We are glad though, that you were a happy cat, right up to the end.
You seemed so old and frail but you were still such a kitten inside.
Even at 14 years old, you would lay on your back and play with my hair.
You would chase any string for as long as someone would dangle it.
You were a special little guy, Casper, and though you are gone…
Your memory lives on….
as it will continue to do for as long as we draw breath upon this earth.
Thank you for an amazing, and memorable, 14 years.
Brandi
(02/02/2010)
Casper 11/27/2009
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