07/24/2025
Eulogy for Sabrina the Teenaged Kitty
I’ve been writing and rewriting this eulogy in my head for a while now. I still get questions about the bookstore cat, and it saddens me to say that Sabrina the Teenaged Kitty passed away on July 11th at 7:05 a.m.
Sabrina was born in March (I believe) of 2009. She came to the bookstore with her brother, and at the time they were known as Tom and Jerry. Since Sabrina was gray, she went by “Tom.” Jerry, however, was clearly a one-person cat - sweet, but not too fond of crowds. Since a bookstore tends to have, well, people, Jerry was rehomed after a few months to a loving family more suited to his temperament.
With her brother gone and, frankly, because I was tired of people trying to feminize the name "Tom,” she was rechristened Sabrina the Teenaged Kitty.
After Jerry left, Sabrina really came into her own. Every morning, I’d scoop her up, she’d curl up on my chest, and we’d walk and rock around the store together, turning on the lights. Her personality began to shine; she was playful, silly, and sweet. She loved goofy games, but she also enjoyed a well-charged laser pointer now and then.
One of her favorite tricks was to climb up to the highest beam in the store, meow pitifully at customers, and act like she was stuck. She was never stuck. She could walk back the way she came just fine, but the beams were deceptive, and many a customer fell for her “helpless” act. Some even begged her to jump down so they could “rescue” her.
Another favorite game was convincing customers she was definitely allowed in the back stockroom. One customer fell for it and let her in. Unfortunately, the layout of that building allowed a curious feline to crawl through the walls and end up under the entire store. Needless to say, it took a while to coax her out. I think the customer's face turned to horror when they saw mine switch from professionally pleasant to oh no in under a second. After that, I put up a sign on the door: No cats allowed in the back, no matter what sob story they give you.
Though she mostly played harmless pranks, Sabrina had a devilish streak too. I once watched security footage of her trailing a woman who clearly had ailurophobia: fear of cats. It was like she knew. She stalked that poor woman throughout the store, quiet and deliberate letting herself be seen occasionally.
Most of the time, though, she just played gargoyle, perched in her favorite spot, silently watching everyone below. When the knitting group used to meet (before 2020), she loved poking her nose into yarn bags. One knitter even made her a blanket for the front window.
If Sabrina didn’t want to be found, you wouldn’t find her. I’m convinced she would follow behind the searcher as silent as a gray shadow, one of her many nicknames. She rarely made a sound, always gliding around without a word.
I always intended to “retire” her one day. Everyone deserves a chance to retire, even bookstore cats. When the closures happened in 2020, I made the decision. She came to live with me and my family and inherited a furry sister, Charlie, whom she absolutely could not stand.
Sabrina was sweet and playful, but she never quite picked up classic kitty behavior. She didn’t know how to sit on a lap and relax. Her first attempts were tense little perches, like she wasn’t sure what to do. It took a year for her to really settle in and relax on a lap. Eventually, she learned to ask for lap time by pawing gently at your arm.
She even found her voice. Thanks to the influence of her fur sister Charlie, she began to speak a little and make requests. She even converted Charlie to a love of catnip, something Charlie had previously ignored.
Sabrina was an incredibly picky eater. She liked only the feline equivalent of junk food. The only food she ever truly seemed to enjoy was her last: Science Diet KD. Two years ago, she was diagnosed with kidney disease. She hung in there. For a while, she even improved. Her last checkup in March showed decent bloodwork. But then she started eating less, and eventually stopped drinking water altogether. Her kidneys began to fail, and I focused on making her last days, and hours, as peaceful as possible.
I held her on my chest for the last time. I rocked her until she asked to be put down. In her final hours, she could no longer walk, so I lay beside her and stayed with her through the night until she passed, her paw on my hand.
I miss those bright green eyes. I miss that gentle little paw on my arm, politely asking for lap time. I miss holding her and walking and rocking.
She was my kitty and loved by many.
I miss her.
