Growing up with my best friend

When I was nine years old I was playing outside on a very cold day. Huddled, freezing underneath a neighbor's AC unit was a very frail, very beaten up, all white cat. Instantly I picked her up and put her inside of my coat. I fell in love with her right away and we bonded at once. By the next day I had convinced my parents to allow me to keep her. We took her to the vet. She was fully declawed, which meant she had been owned at one point and was six years old. Meaning she had been born sometime in 1988. She made a full recovery and though was scared of people she didn't know and mostly stayed in my room she was the most loving cat I had ever known. I named her Creamy. For the next fourteen years she was my best friend. Always with me to cuddle and comfort me when I was sad. When I had gotten my own (first) apartment and would come home at the end of the day she would be waiting for me right at the door. I'd pick her up and hold her against my ear listing to her purr. I'd carry her around for while I went about doing my coming home activities with one hand. Then one morning in late November 2008, this usually very healthy cat took a turn. I found her shaking when I woke up and she wouldn't eat her breakfast. I took her to the vet where they kept her overnight. Sadly the next morning I got a call that she had passed away in the night. When I first got her, as a little girl I would sing Madonna's "Angel" to her. Because she did come when I wished for her. Even though she's been gone almost eight years I still get emotional whenever I happen to hear the song. I will never, ever forget her or stop missing her.
Doreen
Bloomington, IL