Phelicity Marie Dauphine
April 25, 1992 / October 5, 2011

My precious baby was flown on the wings of a multitude
of kitty angels to Rainbow Bridge October 5, 2011.
Babylove, this page is for you.
I loved you with all my heart and soul and being.
I will always love you.

She spent most of her last few months right next to me on the couch or in my lap with her little face shoved into my arm. She had been blind for a year, and her world had become very small. She crept around the floor bravely and even had what she considered a little hidey corner, but she would soon ask to be taken back up on the couch.

December, 2010. She loved her soft new blankie that Auntie Barb sent her. She was blind and couldn't see it, but she knew the feel of it and complained mightily if it was in the laundry for a little while.

She spent a lot of her last winter on the bed, loving the warmth of the electric blanket. I took her to bed with me every night, which had been her habit all her life. Her last night, we had fallen asleep together with her laying on my chest.

Phelicity was tiny, funny, loud, generous, strong, stubborn, calm, trusting and adorable. She was a stunning beauty, but she never seemed aware of it. She was my whole life for years.

She was as playful as a kitten clear up to very old age. She chased toys, ran like a race car and crashed into walls, sat in the bathtub and did her Eliza Doolittle holler when she wanted attention. And she danced. Mostly ballet or Texas two-step, and two she created herself - the figure-8 bump & twirl, and the scottie dog tread. She could do pirouettes in the air in her youth. She truly was a dancer.

She was very discerning about food, unless it was on my plate. Then she'd sit by me to sniff and examine and let me know what she wanted to share. She nearly always got what she wanted, but I better pay attention, or I'd look down and find her happily slurping my Stouffer's lasagne. Or she would leap onto the counter to pass judgement on the contents of the catfood cupboard shelf, and let me know what she saw too many of or flat didn't want. I always swore she could read.

She helped me make all the things I made over the years, with special interest in quilts. She was always right there helping me sew and adding some lovely fur to the designs. She delighted in cleaning-up messes I made on the floor and busily assisted with that. Sometimes I made one just for her to play in. She adopted boxes, paper bags and throw rugs right where they were, and there they had to stay. Her bag lived by the kitchen table for two or three years. We had a required nightly bag-game.

She Occupied; she truly did. She took part in everything all day, and claimed or slept on everything in every room of the house. Her favorites were the old tunnel bed she'd had since kittenhood - in spite of two newer, nicer beds, a pile of quilts on a trunk, her afghan cocoon over her old couch in the den - yes, it was Her couch, or our bed when the electric blanket was on. I can see and feel her everywhere in every inch of the house I look at, and there she will always be. She spent 13 of her years with me here, leaving a thick cloud of precious and happy memories all through it.

And she communicated. Sometimes she'd lay on my chest at night and look into my eyes, holding my gaze for a long time. I never knew any other cat that could do that. She had love written all over her, and I will feel that love in my heart forever.

When she passed 17, old age came upon her awfully fast. I hadn't seen it come that fast in a kitty before. She had kidney disease for six years, but she was still stable and rarely felt sick. She never did have what we call a crash. But she started having other problems to cope with, which we did and got her over them. She still had great strength for such a tiny thing. When she was 18, she lost her sight; then came 19 and things were very different. That's when her great store of courage rose and sustained both her and me. She never gave up.

The last time she got on the leopard chair, she was so proud of herself. I didn't take many pictures of her in the last year, because the sound of the camera startled her. When she lost her sight, her hearing became very acute, and I tried to be careful of any noises that could frighten her.

But this was a kitty who was never afraid of anything in her life except the vacuum. From facing off four grown cats who didn't like her when she was a kitten (they changed their minds later), to getting herself to the top of the refrigerator or tallest bookcase (granted, she would holler for me to come and get her then) to watching in fascination out the open front door on the 4th of July, where our very noisy and active neighbors put on a great show for her that she absolutely loved (while any other kitties in the house spent that time under the bed), she was totally fearless until very old age.

Her last few weeks were basically a kitty hospice here. I can't speak of her last day, only that her passing was peaceful and in my arms.

She was my last baby, my love, my joy, my sunshine, my blessing, the most precious thing ever in my life. She gave me 19 years of love and happiness. She never did anything wrong in her whole life. If her name had only 3 letters instead of 3 words, it would be JOY. I was so blessed to have had the precious gift of Phelicity.
And she will live in my heart forever.

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