Yesterday pretty much sucked. My sweet cat, Stella, had run through 9.7 of her 9 lives, and it was time to let her go. And as anyone who has loved a pet knows, even when it’s the best thing you can do for them and we all wish we could die that way, with a nice big injection of happy drugs, it still is one big cry fest. So this post today is in tribute of my little hairball kitty, and what she taught me about life.

Lesson one: Don’t be afraid to go for it, even if it means crashing and burning a few times before you get it right. Case in point: Stella was trying to chase a fly, and the fly just kept insisting on hovering higher and higher, out of reach. At one point, it was right on the ceiling, and the only way to get close was for her to jump from the low coffee table up about six feet to the top of the nearby armoire. First jump, she completely miscalculated, missed the landing and tumbled back down all the way to the floor. Undeterred, she tried again. Close, but no cigar. (Of course, meanwhile I was watching my armoire get tattooed by her claws. Eek. I was also laughing my head off, because she was so determined!) Finally, she took a slightly different angle on the leap and nailed it—and got her fly. I was rolling on the floor, laughing to tears—and also pretty darn impressed by her sheer will. I made a note to myself: If you don’t fall once in awhile, you’re not trying hard enough.

Lesson Two: Be the squeaky wheel–ask for what you want. And if you don’t get it right away—ask LOUDER. Now, normally, Stella wasn’t much of a talker. She had her greeting meow, the bird-watching chatter noise, and the occasional general comment meow, but typically didn’t just sit there and want to talk with you. Unless. Unless you had something that she wanted. For example, Stella was for some reason particularly fond of licking up the water left in the shower stall after I had been in there, which always seemed odd because it’s not like she lacked access to fresh water. But no, the shower drips were apparently the best, and she wanted in. I would be in the shower, and she would sit on the window sill meowing, getting louder and more insistent the longer I was in there. By the time I would get out, she was practically yelling at me—“GET OUT, I want to lick up the water dribbles! NOOOOOOWWWW!” And you know what, it worked. So maybe the moral of the story isn’t just to be the squeaky wheel, it’s to keep asking until you annoy someone enough that they give you what you’re asking for.

Lesson Three: Some of life’s best things are pretty darn simple. Like toys: as a pet owner, there are a bazillion fancy doodads, accessories, and accoutrements you can buy for your cat. You can get fancy cat beds, special electric chase toys, homemade, homegrown organic catnip mice, litter boxes that clean themselves, water bowls that are more like a water fountain for those cats who like running water (actually, I do want one of these for my other cat, Ruby, who adores drinking straight out of the tap). The funny thing is, for Stella, she didn’t really give a hoot about how fancy something was—she really went for the simple, the basic. Organic catnip? Meh. Expensive kitty bed? Nah, she’d rather sleep in the linen closet on top of a stack of towels. And her favorite toy? A tangled wad of old curling ribbon left over from one Christmas. I swear, that thing was her best friend. She’d roll on it, rub her head on it, sometimes get herself tangled up in it—and ignore all the other fancy expensive toys I had purchased. As she kept demonstrating, the best things in life are pretty simple. Also on her list: naps, a warm patch of sun, the taste of fresh grass, a good hearty backrub, an occasional snuggle. Simple. And so, so satisfying.

I know there’s more I learned from her, and maybe the biggest one is this: Letting a loved one go is incredibly painful. Yet the joy I have had in my life from having her in it is multitudes greater—the laughs, the love, the companionship have all been such a rich part of my world, and makes every bit of the pain worth it. Bye, Stella Bella. You will be missed.