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Ruby

Ruby, you are the part of me I wish that I could keep.

My baby died two weeks ago. It feels like she’s been gone an eternity.

Ruby, you lived to be 20 years old. In April 2020, you would have been 21 years old. My parents let me have you before we left California when I was 6 years old. I took you to Maryland with me, then Arizona, then back to California. My aunt didn’t want me to bring you to San Diego, but after my parents separated, I knew I couldn’t live without you. You were my only friend in a familiar yet incredibly lonely world, at that time.

You had your surgeries throughout the years, two major ones. The vet once said you had a heart murmur, that your heart didn’t beat right. I guess we showed them, didn’t we? Your heart did beat right, Ruby. It beat righter than any other cat’s.

I love you. Your ashes are in my closet but they are not you. The cats try to comfort me and they do a good job. I know they’re doing it in memory of you.

When this life is over, I will search for you.

I love you with all of my heart.

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