Yesterday we had to say goodbye to our last cat, Koko.

Koko has been with us for almost a decade. We adopted her and her sister, Bean, as a bonded pair, and folded them into our family along with Donut, our previous old-lady cat. Since then, both of Koko’s siblings have passed on (Donut last year, Bean a couple years earlier), and she had some serious health issues starting early last year.

But she held on. For over a year she’s been our only cat, a constant companion and a source of limitless stress and love. Twice daily medications (which she was increasingly picky about consuming), difficulty moving and breathing, and a slow loss of energy led to Tuesday, when she lost the use of her rear legs. Wednesday we took her to the vet and sad our tearful goodbyes.

The house feels empty. I’ve spent a few hours putting away food bowls, watering stations, toys, comfy pillows in windows and on couches that were there for Koko to luxuriate on. I’m sure I’ll be finding Koko fur on my clothes and in my food for years to come. But all the same, the echoes of her tiny little paws are so loud in my head and my heart, that sometimes I can’t focus on anything else.

She’s not in pain any more. If there’s an afterlife, I like to think that it’s just for cats… Koko has been reunited with her family on a giant tuna that’s sailing through the stars.

She will be missed. My life is richer for having had her in it, and poorer for her absence, but I’ll get through this.

Hope everyone out there is staying safe and health. And, hey, if you have pets, give them an extra snuggle or two from me.