If these paws could write, I would tell you thank you. For my food bowl, for the water bowl, for the treat bowl I loved ever so.

If these paws could write, they would tell you how much I loved your warm clothes from the dryer. The way you held me in your lap while I slept. I would write about how much I loved being your baby.

If these paws could write, they would write about how you saved my life and gave me a second chance. I would write unending about how I could fit in the palm of your hand, and how you gifted me with sight that I would not otherwise have had.

If these paws could write, they would tell you how grateful I am that I got to see you and to be loved by you; how wonderful to have become part of such a large family, and to be surrounded by my own kind and people that loved me.

If these paws could write, I would write you a sonnet that Shakespeare could never dream of. I would tell you how happy I was to make biscuits in your lap, and how you put up with my sharp claws that dug into you with love because I felt safe.

If these paws could write, I would write to you about how happy I am now: to be free of pain, to be able to see without any problems, and to be with my sister, brothers and nephew again.

If these paws could write, I would tell you this: do not be sad because I am gone, but be thankful that I was here. Cry if you need to, but not for too long. I understand that goodbyes are hard, but you will see me again. Don't let your heart get so heavy, that you don't let another in.

And since these paws do not write, I will say that I love you, and my last word will be the first one I said to you:

Mama.