Our beloved Foxy crossed the Rainbow Bridge late Sunday night. Just days before, we learned she had cancer, and her decline was heartbreakingly swift. In the 27 months—822 days— since we adopted her, Foxy became a deeply cherished part of our family, leaving her paw prints on our hearts. She was ten years old when she came into our lives—far too short a time, but filled with love, comfort, and joy. We are deeply mourning her loss.
I always thought of myself as a “dog person.” For most of my life, I had big dogs—a Golden Retriever, a Black Lab. But as time passed, our lifestyle changed. Age does that to you. Susan had always loved cats, and when she suggested we adopt Foxy from a shelter in March 2023, I agreed.
She quickly became part of our family.
Now, the house feels so quiet without her. We no longer have to close doors or cabinets before going out. There’s no need to turn on a light in the middle of the night to avoid stepping on a surprise. I don’t have to roll the toilet paper just right so it doesn’t end up scattered across the floor as her latest toy. My mornings are missing her insistent meows, triggered by the sound of my alarm—her signal that breakfast should be served. And as I sit in my recliner, there’s no gentle weight curling up against my leg, no comforting presence tucked beside me in one of her favorite spots.
The house is too quiet now.
Will we welcome another cat someday? Most likely, yes. Not to replace Foxy—she was one of a kind—but to open our hearts and home again. A new chapter, a new companion, another chance to love and be loved.
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