I met Colby Jack in the parking garage underneath my apartment. I heard him meowing and at 1 a.m. went down to say hello. He came right up to me and was so sweet and loving. I left to go to bed and he cried all night so I knew I had to have him. I took him in the next day.
I had no idea then that he was going to be the greatest thing that happened to me. Colby was the best. He wasn’t afraid of anything. Meeting dogs, other cats, and other people was no big deal to him. He was a great host and would go right up and lay near you (or on you) and let you know that you were welcome.
My mom always said they needed to make clones of him because he was perfect. Even my friends who strongly dislike cats made an exception for him. I have a lot of mental health issues and Colby saved my life, time and time again. He saw me through relationships, undergrad and graduate school, and two trips to rehab. He slept with me every night and we cuddled every day. He was always by my side. And he purred … constantly. Sometimes he’d be laying on the couch next to me just purring by himself. The second you touched him he would start purring. I miss that.
When the pandemic hit, he was constantly zoom bombing my work meetings, but everyone in them was happy to see him as well. He was five when I got him and he died when he was 13. I feel so lucky that I got eight years, seven months, and five days with him. He was truly a gift to life and I miss him every day.
