Eulogy for Bastet
“She wasn’t just my cat. She was my companion, my tiny guardian, and a little piece of joy that walked on four paws.”

Bastet came into my life in the most unexpected way.
I was in the backyard, and there she was—this little cat, calm, confident, not afraid of me at all. Like she already knew me.
From that day forward, she never really left.
Every morning, every night—she was there. Waiting. Watching. Loving in her own way.

She was named after the Egyptian goddess Bastet. And she really did live up to that name.
She was graceful. She was fierce. She was affectionate when she wanted to be, and strong-willed always.

She loved being outside.
Rolling around in the dirt, basking in the sunlight like it was made for her.
She’d hear my voice from the window and answer back with this little meow that felt like a whole conversation.
And then she'd roll over and look at me like, “Are you coming or what?”

She had this playful side that made me laugh when I really needed it.
The zoomies? Yeah… she’d fly through the house like a little tornado. No warning. No chill. Just joy.
And even when she annoyed me—like scratching the door at 3 a.m. begging to go out—
I still loved her for it.
Because that was just… her.

She caught two birds once. Left them for me inside the house like trophies.
I didn’t love that part.
But I understood it. Cats do what they do.
She was proud. She was a hunter.
She was alive.

There was something about her that always felt deeply tuned in.
She always knew when I’d be home.
She’d be waiting by the gate, like she could smell me coming down the block.
And on the rare nights she decided to curl up next to me, every three months or so—it meant everything.
That was her version of I love you.

She was a mom once. Had five kittens. I couldn’t keep them, and that still hurts sometimes.
But she kept on loving me like nothing changed.
She forgave me. That’s who she was.

She was picky—only liked one kind of wet food. But she was also easy to please.
Give her the backyard, some sunshine, a little avocado to lick—and she was happy.

Bastet isn’t gone yet.
But one day she will be.
And when that day comes, I know it’s going to break me.

Because she’s not just a pet.
She’s family.
She’s been my peace, my laughter, my reminder to step outside, breathe, and be present.

She’s the best cat I’ve ever had.
And even when she’s gone, she’ll still be here.
In the dirt she rolled in. In the gate she waited by.
In every quiet moment I look out the window and miss her little meow calling me to come play.