In Loving Memory of Nermal

14 years of love, adventure, companionship, and the sweetest little mews.

For 14 years, Nermal wasn't simply our cat. He was family. He was a constant. He was a tiny little presence who somehow managed to take up an enormous amount of space in our lives and our hearts.

Nermal came into this world on the very same day as his human, Colton, and the two of them shared not only a birthday, but an age. They quite literally grew up together. Every birthday that marked another year of Colton's life marked another year of Nermal's, too which is a connection that made their bond incredibly special and makes saying goodbye at 14 years old even harder.

But Nermal had so many humans to love.

He was loved endlessly by Colton, Ava, and Andy, and by his mom and dad, Amanda and Josh. He had his beloved cat pal Garfield, and later shared his world with his two canine companions, Tilly and Kilo. His family didn't always have two legs, and he didn't seem to care. They were his, and that was all that mattered.

And what a life he lived.

Nermal was a well-traveled little cat who experienced more of the country than many people ever will. He traveled across the United States, lived in different states, experienced different homes and different chapters of our lives, and somehow always made wherever we were feel a little more like home.

If you knew Nermal, you knew he was never very interested in personal space.

Going to the bathroom alone? Absolutely not.

He would sit in the bathroom and supervise, usually perched on the counter, reaching out a paw to remind you that while you were sitting there doing absolutely nothing important, you could obviously be petting him.

He was constantly underfoot, always nearby, always watching.

He had the sweetest little mews that could melt you instantly. And then there were the nightly sprints... the moment everyone finally settled into bed apparently being Nermal's signal that it was time to absolutely lose his mind and race through the house.

Those are the things we'll miss most.

Not just the big memories, but the tiny ones.

The paws reaching for us.

The little meows.

The sound of him running through the house.

Looking down and finding him at our feet.

Walking into the bathroom and realizing, once again, that privacy was no longer an option.

Feeling him curl up beside us.

Knowing he was always watching.

Toward the end of his life, things became much harder. Nermal developed stage 3 kidney disease, and his final chapter required palliative care, treatments, patience, difficult decisions, and so much love. His mom did everything she could to keep him comfortable and give him the dignity, safety, and care he deserved.

And even when he wasn't feeling well, he was still Nermal.

He still cuddled with his mom.

He still wanted to be close.

He was still watching.

Until the very end, he knew exactly where home was.

Losing him has left an emptiness that is difficult to explain because when someone has been part of your life for 14 years, you don't simply lose them in one moment. You notice their absence over and over again in the quiet rooms, the empty spot beside you, the bathroom counter, bedtime, and all of the little routines you never realized had become so deeply connected to them.

Nermal was here for childhoods, moves, adventures, hard seasons, beautiful ones, and countless ordinary days in between.

He grew up with our family.

He traveled with our family.

He comforted our family.

He made us laugh.

He drove us crazy.

He loved us.

And we loved him right back.

There will never be another Nermal.

We will miss his sweet little face, his mews, his midnight zoomies, his bathroom supervision, his paws reaching for attention, and the way he was somehow always right there.

Fourteen years could never have been enough.

But what an incredible 14 years they were.

Rest peacefully, sweet Nermal.

You were loved your entire life, right through your very last moment.

And you'll be loved for the rest of ours.