2018 - 2024
2018 - 2024
Luna was a contradiction wrapped in soft tabby fur — fiercely independent yet endlessly affectionate, demanding complete silence during naps while somehow always finding the loudest moments to meow at full volume. She chose us, not the other way around, and we were better for it every single day of our six years together. She curled up on our laptops, interrupted every important call, and somehow still managed to be the best coworker we ever had.
She appeared at our doorstep on a cold April morning — tiny, insistent, and absolutely certain she was moving in. We put up 'Found Cat' posters that nobody ever answered. Looking back, those posters were pointless. Luna had already decided.
Every holiday season brought new boxes, and Luna treated each one as a personal gift. It didn't matter what was inside — the box itself was the treasure. We started ordering extra packages just for her, and she accepted each one with regal dignity.
Luna spent her final days doing exactly what she loved most — lying in the warm patch of sunlight that moved across the living room floor each afternoon. She purred the whole time. We sat beside her and didn't say much. We didn't need to.
It's okay to feel exactly how you're feeling right now.
breed
Tabby Cat
age
6 Years
favorite activities
Window Watching, Chasing Shadows, Sunbathing, Sneaking Into Boxes
favorite treats
Tuna Flakes, Creamy Puffs, Warm Milk
favorite sound
Birds Chirping, Bag Crinkling, Can Opener
best adventure
First Trip to the Vet (Survived), Escaping to the Balcony, Discovering the New Couch
98
Total Lit Candles
Luna was a contradiction wrapped in soft tabby fur — fiercely independent yet endlessly affectionate, demanding complete silence during naps while somehow always finding the loudest moments to meow at full volume. She chose us, not the other way around, and we were better for it every single day of our six years together. She curled up on our laptops, interrupted every important call, and somehow still managed to be the best coworker we ever had.
She appeared at our doorstep on a cold April morning — tiny, insistent, and absolutely certain she was moving in. We put up 'Found Cat' posters that nobody ever answered. Looking back, those posters were pointless. Luna had already decided.
Every holiday season brought new boxes, and Luna treated each one as a personal gift. It didn't matter what was inside — the box itself was the treasure. We started ordering extra packages just for her, and she accepted each one with regal dignity.
Luna spent her final days doing exactly what she loved most — lying in the warm patch of sunlight that moved across the living room floor each afternoon. She purred the whole time. We sat beside her and didn't say much. We didn't need to.
It's okay to feel exactly how you're feeling right now.
"Until we meet again over the Rainbow Bridge"