Frank

2011 - 2025

In Loving Memory of Frank (Franklin) (little old mans) (stink) (bubbas)

Frank—Franklin—came into our lives in August of 2021 as a foster. Before then, he had grown up on the West Side of Chicago, either as a stray or as a neighborhood cat. We do not know whether Frank had ever had a family or a loving home before 2021.

The day Frank came home was an act of fate. He and his brother were meant to be put down that evening, and somehow, Frank and I were blessed to find one another that very day. From the moment he arrived, it was almost as if he knew he had finally found his forever home. He immediately jumped out of his box, ready to explore and investigate his new kingdom.

It took Frank a little while to fully trust me, but once he did, he opened his entire heart. He became the sweet, feisty, food-loving, rambunctious, stinky, kind, funny, loving, intelligent, vocal little old man that I had the blessing of loving with every fiber of my being for five years.

Frank had so many things that made him happy. He loved playing in his tunnel. He would run in and out of it and pounce on his brother—or on me—whenever we walked by. He loved sitting inside the tunnel while I pulled him around and spun him in circles like he was on his own little amusement park ride. He loved his toy mice, tossing them high into the air and catching them. He loved playing chase with his brother, sitting beside an open window, sunbathing, sneaking human food while his mom was sleeping, and jumping onto bags just so he could hear them make that satisfying crunching sound.

He loved cardboard boxes. He loved his Bear Bed. And he loved sneaking into bed to cuddle with his mom and his brother—whenever his brother would let him.

Frank was endlessly curious and incredibly brave. He could walk into any room, veterinary office, or unfamiliar home and immediately act as though he owned the place. In his mind, he probably did.

He absolutely loved giving kisses and grooming his mom’s head. He even loved rubbing his cheeks all over her hairbrush. Frank was fascinated by watching his mom get ready and put on her makeup, and sometimes his mom would pretend to give him a little blush and mascara of his own.

Frank loved being up high. Some of his favorite places were the top of the refrigerator, the back of the couch, his cat tree, his mom’s unopened comforter, and his mom’s office chair. He also enjoyed jumping in and out of the bathtub simply because he could. He loved getting kisses, and he especially loved having his face rubbed.

But perhaps Frank’s greatest love of all was food.

Any food.

Frank loved to eat.

And Frank was a fighter.

He scared many veterinarians over the years. He would meow—loudly—to yell at you for food, sometimes a full two hours before dinner. Despite barely having any teeth, he once managed to capture a cicada. He wrestled with his brother. He fought his mama every single time he needed medication or the indignity of a butt wipe. And, more importantly than any of those things, Frank fought to be here until the very end.

I told him to keep fighting. I told him that I needed him here.

And he did.

He fought for as long as he possibly could.

In his final moments, I held him and called for him. Frank, who may once have known what it meant to be abandoned, homeless, or alone, never had to experience those things again. He left this world knowing exactly what it meant to belong to someone.

He had a home.

He had a family.

He had his mom and his brother beside him, loving him and staying with him until his final moments.

Whatever his life may have been before August of 2021, from that day forward Frank was never unwanted, never abandoned, and never alone. He was cherished. He was protected. He was spoiled. He was deeply known. And he was loved with every fiber of my being.

Frank came into our lives as a foster, but he was never meant to leave.

He had found his forever home.

And he will remain part of it forever.