Blackie
by Michelle DeVille

I’d like to say that Blackie had nine lives like most cats, but the truth is, he only had eight and a half. Cancer had already taken his left eye long before it took his life, cheating him of the chance to live out the last bit of happiness he was meant to have.

It’s been years since he died, and like most memories, his too have started to fade with time. As a childhood pet, Blackie would be taken everywhere. He was subject to many games of dress up, and it has to be said, he never once complained that his hat didn’t match his outfit. But this sweet animal’s personality was set at a young age when I watched this tiny furball of a kitten take interest to “another” cat hiding on the opposite side of a floor length mirror. After a few moments of stalking, Blackie had had enough with the intruder, so he tried to jump through the mirror to find out more.

He was never considered to be the most brilliant animal, but when you had as much heart as he did, his purrs and kisses were enough.

When loved ones go, it is a hard realization to grasp, as you know they can never be replaced nor would you ever think of doing such. So when I saw the sculpture Anita did with the cremains of my beloved Blackie, I knew he would be with me forever. After years of faded memories, here he was again—a little cat staring into a giant mirror, forever curious about what lurks on the other side.

A memory frozen in time.

Something that can never be duplicated.