The Kitty was not the epitome of feline grace. She had been rescued as a young cat by a former co-worker of Len's many years ago, her left eye having been shot out b.b. gun. When Len took her over about five years ago she developed a tumor, which turned out to be cancer. An X-Ray taken at that time turned up a b.b. in one of her hips. She was stone deaf, de-clawed, and she didn't weigh more than 4 pounds.
The Kitty liked great heights, but regularly fell off of them: she would have preferred to sleep on top of the television (about 3 feet off the ground), but the sound of her hitting the floor was so sad that we put a small stack of books on top of it, so she slept on the DirecTV receiver instead (about a foot lower, but a little wider, so she didn't fall off as often). When she died, she took the receiver with her: it seems she couldn't get down in time when she had to....mmmmm...evacuate. So she did it on top of of the receiver.
Her original name was Cleo, but Len didn't like it, so he always called her The Kitty. She was deaf so it didn't matter much to her. The Kitty seemed to fit her better anyway, she always believed she was The Only One. Neither of the other cats in the house were worth anything. If they got too close she would try to rip their faces off. Simon (the 16 pound football player cat) shrugged off her attempts. Gwen (the neurotic 14 pound cat) was afraid of her. She would attack visiting dogs, as well.
When it came to food (especially pizza), she could muster the agility of a gymnast and the speed of a sprinter. Since we don't have a dining room or eat-in kitchen, we eat sitting on the couch. We had to guard our dinner vigilantly, lest she run off with it, she would stand with her tiny little paws on our chests looking for an opportunity to steal food from the fork. She was relentless.
The Kitty died in October. She waited until we left for vacation and made our friends, Keith and Stef handle the details.* We buried her in the garden, next to the greenhouse and planted daffodils on top. Cheerful flowers for a not-very-cheerful cat. We miss her very much.
*They did this with grace and tact, and we are eternally grateful..