When we got her, she was just a tiny ball of orange and white fluff, who purred so hard her paws vibrated. Heck, even as an adult, she purred so hard her paws vibrated.
We joked that she was a Victorian lady: prim and proper and prudish in the daytime, all wild and "love me love me" when nighttime fell and we were in bed. She could be terribly obnoxious, claiming her pillow like a queen's due, and waking me up in the morning with yowls and purrs and licking and nudging... but she was sweet about it.
Wendy was a true champion of hiding. She had more hideyholes around the house than we could ever find. Sometimes, she hid in plain sight, disguising herself as a pile of clothes or a stuffed animal. Sometimes, she found the deepest, darkest corners imaginable... and everytime I found one, she'd move to another. Catching her? Damn near impossible on a good day. She was capable of traveling through walls and ceilings to accomplish her arcane goals. Sometimes, I think she left this dimension altogether.
She was my mother's favorite, mainly because she resembled a Pekinese dog. Wendy had a glorious plume of a tail, a feather duster she used to great dramatic effect.
Wendy once hid perfectly still, silent and uncomplaining, under a pillow for nearly an hour while people were sitting on the bed talking, just so they wouldn't notice her. And it worked.
She was our first female cat, and our fifth altogether; her immediate predecessor was with us for only a week before he succumbed to birth defects. He was Paddington because he was marmalade. His successor thus became Wendy in some bizarre train of thought involving British childrens' stories. As the only female with three males, it naturally became Wendy and the Lost Boys. She was the female alpha for as long as she was with us. We suspect that role is now passed on to the grumpy tabby.
Wendy was sweet and loving, and loved in return.
Earlier this year, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. The details are depressing. She went through the full chemi therapy, plus several surgeries, but in the end, it didn't buy her much time. Just enough for us to accept that it was time to let her move on.
Today, at 12:20 PM EST, Wendy performed her greatest act of hiding ever, and really did leave this dimension. She will be missed more than I can say. I'm still working through this, but I wanted to get some some initial thoughts and memories.
I leave you with this: