SHE had been with me for atleast ten years and we both grew up together. She lived outside our house and slept in my bed, curled beside me and sometimes under it.

Whenever I ate, she ate with me and we both went for a walk together everyday. She’d light the lamps as soon as I switched them off and often showed interest in me and my boring books, sometimes nuzzling at my toes and sometimes repeating my words as I read out loud.

We had the same subject choices as well as our favourite colours, food, scents, etc. She sighed everyday when I gave her at least an hour’s hard time, complaining about the tiring day. In short, we made each other’s life complete and she remained my constant companion.

One day, she had spilled ink on my homework by mistake and due to my anger, she had to go for the walk alone. I regret that day the most. If only I hadn’t shouted at her, it all wouldn’t have ended. She was crossing the street when a car hit her. I remained by her side in the hospital, sometimes patting her paws and sometimes removing her beautiful nut-brown hair from her face. But she slowly went away. Her existence faded from my life. We buried her in a park near our house.

I couldn’t stop crying but only one thought calmed me and that was that cats don’t survive for too long but gladly, she had been with me for a good while. I closed my eyes on the ride back home from the park, wondering how I would live without the little companion whom we had just buried.