From the moment I met Arya, I knew she was a terror on four legs, and that she would become my precious little girl. I couldn’t always tell her apart from her brother at first, and I started calling her soot because her fur puffed up and resembled a soot sprite from the Studio Ghibli film, Spirited Away. She had the most stunning eyes, accented by what we liked to call her white eyeliner, and she was always staring. We always joked that she could see ghosts because she would stare so much just off in space. She was definitely the smarter of the two siblings, she was much more tactile in her hunting style, so it was always a challenge to try and engage her with toys. And she had the deepest voice for being the smallest cat in the house. She was our sweet and mischievous little girl.
She was a killer through and through; she was the first in her litter to attack and kill a stuffed mouse as a kitten. She was in love with the neighbor’s cat when we lived in Tennessee, and it broke our hearts to have to break up such a sweet sapphic relationship when we moved – though it didn’t take much to get her to forgive us in those following weeks.
She had eccentric tastes in foods; she would hardly touch tuna, or wet food, but boy did she love catnip tea. Anytime we got her a new cat nip toy, she would have to first make tea in the water dish with it (although she never drank it, she just seemed to enjoy making it). She had very bougie tastes, even making us go so far as to get her a filtered water fountain because she wouldn’t drink anything when we initially changed their water dish out.
She was queen of the house, and she knew it. And the best part for her, was she was too cute to stay mad at. Even now, looking back on the memories of her brings a bittersweet smile to our faces because we know she’s gone. But with time, the bitter will subside, and we’ll be able to laugh and smile without any tears.
Arya was a mischievous spirit, a hunter with killer instincts, and too cute to boot. And most importantly, we loved her.