When you came to my place, and later Cynthia’s and my place, she’d be the cat that’d trot out to greet you. When we considered buying the loft we were renting in Santa Clara, the owner’s realtor commented, “I see you have a negotiator” after she insisted on head scritches from him.

If you stayed with us, she would curl up with you on our sofa bed, while the other cats might perch on the edge of the bed and watch while you sleep, or in the words of my friend Melissa, “spy on your dreams.” There was an unfortunate incident involving an air mattress and claws.

You don’t really plan for cats. My diabetic black cat had died in the spring of 2004. I had planned to wait a year and think about adopting siblings from a litter. That summer Cynthia and I were out and about and saw a fostering group had kittens to adopt at a pet store in Mountain View.

We had been watching His and Her Circumstances on DVD. Cynthia saw the little calico preening herself and said, “that’s Yukino. She know’s she’s queen of everything.” They were just two months old, and still needed to be spayed, but that afternoon we signed an agreement to adopt Yukino and her sister, who Cynthia had named Hitomi, in July.

This morning, as I made breakfast, I heard a cry. I thought at first it was someone outside in distress, but then I saw Yukino sprawled on the floor by the kitchen table. I swooped her up to cradle her, and called out for Cynthia to come downstairs. Yukino passed on in moments. It was sudden, and it was mercifully fast.

My other cats have been sniffing and searching for her all day. We took her body to the vets office to be cremated. I’m glad we had her, despite the $2,200 vet bill for bladder stones in the middle of closing on our condo, or the time she swatted Cyn’s mom’s beloved dog, earning the appelation ‘Devil Cat.’ She stayed at my side as I recovered from two major surgeries. She was affectionate, loyal, and willful as anything. A true calico.