Luna arrived as a stray kitten in a cardboard box left outside our apartment on a rainy October night. We were not cat people. Then Luna decided we were her people, and that was that.
For eleven and a half years she ruled our home with elegant authority. She had opinions about everything: which blanket was hers (all of them), whether my work calls were interesting (rarely), and where she preferred to nap (anywhere I needed to sit). She was equal parts aloof and deeply affectionate — she would ignore you for hours and then curl up on your chest exactly when you needed it most.
Luna passed quietly on Valentine's Day, which felt exactly right — she was, in her own way, all love. We keep her urn on the bookshelf beside her favorite sleeping spot. Some mornings we still expect to see her there.