I remember the first time I saw her, peeking out of the car at me. The fear and distrust in those huge green eyes told me I would have my work cut out. She had been found by a workmate's girlfriend in an alley, and was still nervous about everyone and everything around her. She was a beauty, though: graceful in movement and form, long and silky with tortoise shell fur, and a line down the middle of her face separating those shockingly expressive eyes. And she was trying to tear my hands off.

I feel that a cat should have the name that he or she deserves, so I lived with her for a couple weeks before choosing one. She made it a challenge, as she proved to be a cat of many moods. She really seemed to have no single prevailing attitude. Her feelings about a person or situation could change in a heartbeat. As that became her defining quality, I landed on the only possible name……Sybyl.

Life with Sybyl was a challenge in the early days. She didn't seem to like me, and seemed hell bent on destroying everything I own, including Avatar, the senior cat of the house. There were a couple times when I considered getting her a new home. I would have to capture her to pet her, and while I held her and stroked her gently, she would wail as if suffering the tortures of the damned. She finally found one—and for a time, only one—way to bond, and that was by sitting on the edge of the bathtub while I took my bath (as that apartment had no shower). She would just sit there and watch, and purr the loudest, deepest purr I've ever heard. She fell in only once. I never saw a cat move so fast.

She proved a smart one, as well, smart enough to figure out how to open a kitchen drawer and snag a favorite toy. Smart enough to know how a doorknob mechanism works, and try to turn it. Smart enough to learn that if the front door wasn't latched, she could open it by tossing herself at it. If it were locked, she would just bounce harmlessly off. I'll never forget the first—and only—time she went into heat. An entire evening of "Meeeaarrrlllllllllll" WHHUUUMMMP! "Meeeaarrrlllllllllll" WHHUUUMMMP! "Meeeaarrrlllllllllll" WHHUUUMMMP!

She weathered a lot of changes with me, and always made herself not just at home, but the Absolute Queen and Monarch of All She Surveys and Most of the Rest. She slowly became more affectionate, although still very aloof, especially with the other cats. She did not at all like the idea of moving in with a dog, but eventually resigned herself to having the lummox around. As long as we all understood that she was superior.

And the games we would invent! Not only the typical hunting games that cats play, but there was also her world class bagpipe impression, with me holding her on her back like I'd hold a baby, and squeezing her gently, while she'd wail out her interpretation of "Amazing Grace". Then there was the Sybyl Game, which required a straight-backed kitchen chair with a space between the back and the seat. She would lay on her back with her head and front paws looking up at the back of the chair. Her rear feet would kick at the front of the chair back while she tried to kill my fingers as they moved across the back of the chair back. If she started to slow down, a couple soft spanks would rev her up again. Hours of fun.

It was when she became the only cat that the aloofness ended. She was, from that point on, Daddy's Little Girl. She rarely passed up a free lap, and adopted Avatar's habit of jumping up on the bed after I got in, to sit on my chest and say goodnight with that loud purr. Then it's up on the headboard, or the windowsill, to lull me to sleep with that same loud, deep, satisfied sound. She still hissed at Angus a lot (he is the clumsy sort and would step on her occasionally) but she'd also lick his face when she thought I wasn't looking.

She slowed down a bit as she aged, and didn't play as much, but was still vigorous enough to defend her ground. She stayed healthy for over 15 years, aside from having to take medication for hyperthyroidism these past few years. It became more difficult to give her in the past six months, though, as she became less and less likely to eat. She lost weight.

The last few weeks saw some changes in medication and feeding tactics, but to no avail. She had developed heart disease, and that was affecting all other systems, as they all need blood. She couldn't get up when I did this morning, and didn't respond to fluids at the emergency vet. She threw up blood. At age 16, it was time. I had to relieve, and release, her.

Sybyl lay in her Daddy's arms this morning as the sedatives put her gently to sleep. My friend Amy and I stroked her and cried while telling her how much she is loved. When her heart stopped beating, for a moment mine did also.

She rests in the garden next door, where birds sometimes play, with a marker painted by my friend and neighbor, Beth. It looks just like her, in the prime of health. She would approve. It suits her dignity, and shows her beauty.