It was just National Cat Day, and with it I was flooded with memories of our sweet Miss Mercury, the cat.

We went to our local shelter many years ago to look for a cat and met several in a special little cat-viewing room. The volunteers asked us if we would consider a black cat. To be honest, I didn’t feel one way or the other, but I was hoping to adopt a grey one.

Apparently, this cat was not only black, but she also had a bit of a history. She was living a hard life on the streets of Aurora when she was picked up by animal control. She was pregnant and placed into foster care. She gave birth to her kittens and raised them properly. Then it was her turn to be adopted, but she ran away. All was though lost, until she returned to her foster home, pregnant once more. This was an active kitty with a mind of her own. Naturally, she stayed during her pregnancy as she was also one smart cat. The shelter named her Mercury.

When she entered the viewing room, it was abundantly clear that she was checking us out rather than the other way around. Once we had been vetted, she went around to each of us for a sniff and a head rub. She was claiming us as her own. What choice did we have? She chose us; we had to adopt her.

The shelter had no idea how old she was, but she was likely between 2 and 4 years old. With jet-black fur and golden-green eyes, she certainly was a looker.

When we got her home, I asked the kids what we should name her. They looked at me with horror. “Her name is Mercury; that is her God-given name,” they told me with certainty. So that was her name, and she would come if we called her, but only if she wasn’t busy sleeping or something.

She took to our kids and to us, but she always had to be in charge. If we picked her up, she would stay for a bit, but then jump off. Then she’d jump up on her own, as if to say, “This was my decision.”

She was never intrusive, but she liked being around us. If we were watching a movie, she would be in the family room. If we were eating in the kitchen, she would be there. She never started eating her food until we started eating ours. It was the polite thing to do.

She would greet us when we returned from an outing. We would open the door to find her sitting very properly, facing the door. As we came in, she would look up at us, give a single “meow,” and walk away. I believe that was her way of saying, “hello.”

In her younger years, she would escape the house only to return with a gift for us. A bird, a bunny, and once a full-grown rabbit. She proudly dropped the rabbit on our living room carpet, as if to say, “I’m buying dinner tonight!” We distracted her and I was charged with disposing of the rabbit. It was still warm and I had hoped that it had fainted and could still be revived. I gently placed it on our front lawn and crossed my fingers. When Mercury returned she looked at the empty space on the carpet then at me several times in rapid succession. The look on her face was priceless and seemed to say, “You ate the whole rabbit and didn’t save me any?’ By the way, the rabbit was still on the front lawn in the morning, it did not revive. Mercury clearly new the art of being a cat.

She was always proper and patient. She kept me company when I was on the computer and sat with the kids while they did their homework. She was never a pet; she was a vital part of our family.

She did have one weakness: baked goods. In the dark of the night, she would steal bread or cakes off the counter and eat them. Her favorite stolen treat was lemon loaf, which we all found odd since cats supposedly hate citrus. We figured that her love of lemon loaf was from her former days as an alley cat… oops, I mean as a sophisticated urban feline. Mercury always had dry cat food out, so I think she liked being mischievous in this one area. We couldn’t get mad at her, we all loved her too much.

The years passed, and we all got older. Mercury started to lose weight, but still looked and acted healthy. She became insistent on eating more and saw me as the soft touch in the family. I fed her scraps and eventually realized she wasn’t eating her always-available dry food. Her aging teeth wouldn’t handle it. I started to feed her wet food and our tiny friend eventually was devouring 2-3 cans a day.

At promptly 6 AM (I swear that cat wore a wristwatch), she would start meowing at our closed bedroom door. If I didn’t respond, she would then scratch at the door. She taught herself how to open our bedroom door and would do so if I was too slow. She would sit staring at me, just out of my reach, and meow in an every escalating fashion until I gave up and got up. She always won, of course she did.

At morning, noon, and dinner, she would be fed either on a plate with stars on it or on one shaped like a heart. Both were china, of course. Only the best for Miss Mercury.

Now, as a senior cat, she would sometimes falter, get sick, and stop eating, but she always pulled through, and within a day or two she would be back to her old self, jumping on our laps, purring, and begging us to feed her.

My wife and I went on a camping adventure, and my son stayed home to care for Merc. We had only one more stop on our trip when we got a call from him. Miss Mercury was dying, he had called a vet who was coming to our home to see her. Two of my daughters heard the news and drove in from their distant apartments to be with her. The vet came, and Miss Mercury passed away. I drove straight from Colorado back home to Chicago that day to be with the family. Miss Mercury was 21 years old. I loved that little black cat, and I miss her to the very day. She was a wonderful member of our family and a true friend. Miss Mercury made every day a little bit brighter. Rest in peace, sweet Mercury.