Yepper. Tokyo spent her last days in a peaceful surroundings, being loved and groomed and she never missed a time to let me know she appreciated it.
From the first day I cut the mats from her back to the day she died, she was my little shadow. I know she couldn’t see, but I always talked to her so she would know I was there. She would wake up on the other pillow in the bed, stretch out one of her paws, spread the toes, retract the velcro, and pat me on the face with a little “mrrrf?”
I wouldn’t mind another like her. I think she was at least 17 when I got her, and I had her for almost six years, so at least those six years were good ones.
She sounds like a good kitty. May she meet you at the Rainbow Bridge.