Bonbon

As a break from the usual stuff, I just want to take a moment to memorialize a dear friend of mine.

Bonbon was only a part of our family for about 5 years, but it felt like she had always been there with how naturally she meshed with our little family. She was about 5 years old when we adopted her from a shelter in 2020. It was during the height of the COVID quarantine, and we basically got her sight unseen; after applying for adoption over the phone, a masked worker at the shelter came out to the car and dropped a big takeout box with a kitty cat right into the passenger seat. It was immediately apparent that she did not enjoy riding in the car, as she screamed most of the way home, poking her big ol’ head out of one of the carrier’s cardboard flaps for a moment. And she must have hated musical theater as well, because turning on the Hamilton soundtrack only made her scream louder. But once we were home and she had time to get comfortable, we all immediately fell in love with her. She truly was the sweetest cat we could have ever asked for and was one of my most valued companions for the last half decade.

The only complaint we ever had with her was her penchant for scratching on unapproved surfaces at times. And in her boldest eras, she had a tendency to sneak off with unattended food left on a table or counter; we once found her gnawing on a huge fried chicken breast that she had liberated from a takeout container and dragged to the middle of the stairs. But otherwise, she was a pure delight to be around. Bonbon was a gentle soul who enjoyed nothing more than curling up on a lap to take a nap. In the mornings, she would quickly swoop in to steal a freshly vacated space on the bed, using our pillows as a gigantic headrest like a tiny little person. She was a very social and trusting kitty; she loved meeting humans, got along with other cats, and was incredibly patient and calm around our high-energy dog. Every time we had guests over at the house, she was eager to meet the newcomers to solicit pets and find an available lap to occupy. She could absorb a seemingly endless stream of petting, especially loving little scratches on her chin and cheeks. She would headbutt your hands to ask for more, and would gently pat your leg with her paw when she felt you weren’t paying enough attention to her. Like so many tuxedos seem to be, she was just a sweetheart down to the bone.

She seemed to always know when someone was sick or in distress, and would usually hang out with whoever happened to zonked out with the flu. While it sometimes made it more difficult to type, she was always welcome to hop up and take a nap while I worked from my home office. She would look up at you with such a knowing, gentle gaze. There was just such a strong feeling of mutual understanding when our eyes would meet and we would slow blink at each other. She was just a chill friend to be around, and made any lazy activity that much more enjoyable.

Bonbon usually carried herself with an air of elegance and dignity, walking calmly on her little high-top boots and remaining calm and unfazed as a rambunctious pile of sheepdog floof would come barrelling down the hallway two feet from her face. Pretty much everyone who met her would comment on what a friendly and gentle soul she was.

In November of 2025, we noticed she was becoming more isolated and spending more time sleeping in the basement. When we could tell that her breathing was becoming strained, we took her to the vet, where she was diagnosed with an advanced tumor along her mammary tract that had metastasized in her lungs. The doctor estimated she only had a few weeks left and the best thing we could do was make her as comfortable as possible. It was devastating to hear. I felt horrible that I had not noticed the mass on her belly; she never liked being picked up, which we respected and therefore never had much opportunity to notice the irregularity. In the following weeks, she went downhill quickly. She barely ate, her breathing continued to sound more strained, and her energy levels kept dropping. Seeing her continue to decline, we made the incredibly difficult decision to end her suffering and let her go on January 10, 2026. Saying goodbye to our treasured friend was incredibly difficult. But at least she is at rest now, and her ashes have been returned home.

My sweet little kitty. You truly were a core part of our little family who will always be fondly remembered; you were one of the best friends I could have ever asked for. I love you, girl. I will always treasure the short time I had with you, and I’ll miss you always. I can only hope we were able to make your time on this planet happy and comfortable. I hope that I was able to bring to your life even a fraction of the joy you brought to mine. You were one of the best to ever do it, and you will be missed by everyone who was fortunate enough to meet you. Rest well, my beloved friend.