I said goodbye to my cat of 18 years, and here’s what it taught me about business.
Just kidding! My cat was not very good at writing or public relations. Her writing style was “…sssssssssssccccccccccccccc.” She was also notorious for live-editing screen-shared agendas and hanging up on reporters (fortunately, it only happened once).
Losing my heart cat did not give me any poignant business advice to impart. Instead, I’ve been reflecting on the role of pets in our professional lives.
From Notorious Cat to Officemate
My mom picked out Snow Boots, the tuxedo cat (aka Handlebars, Bootsy, Bootsy Collins, the Bootsmeister) during my senior semester of college. She was waiting for me when I got home after graduation.
The cat accompanied me through three states, five jobs, and six homes, enduring five years of overnight shifts, several roommates, a new dad, and a new little brother.
Snow Boots was there with me for every single day of my professional career. Until a few months ago, I had never begun or ended a workday without her. And she was a well-known officemate. Legend is a more accurate characterization.
When I worked in newsrooms and an office, all my colleagues were well aware of her antics. Falling behind the washing machine, swiping at people who got too close to her tree, dive bombing the bed in the middle of the night, napping in a drawer, and sending me into a panicked search more than once. The list goes on.
But she really got her moment to shine in 2020, when we were all suddenly working from home. I thought she was notorious before, but this was a new level.
Snow Boots never missed a Zoom call. She could be sleeping all day, but the second she heard a voice, she was on the desk to participate. I have hundreds of pictures of her on my lap or splayed out across the desk with no regard for a productive work environment. 
She was so insistent on being part of everything that I just let her roam around on the desk. The alternative was an endless loop of her jumping up and me putting her down. I was a consummate professional, speaking through a cat rubbing her face on my chin.
We shared an office for six years.
Saying Goodbye to a Coworker
Those years we spent together in our home office were a blessing. Midday pets, after work snuggles — she was always nearby.
But the quality time made the end even tougher. I was here all day to watch her decline. I spent many work hours desperately researching remedies for various old-age maladies and fretting over whether she needed to go to the vet. (She was notorious there as well, a proud recipient of a “dangerous animal” sticker.)
On her final day, I took a wellness day from work, and Snow Boots and I cuddled in our favorite spot on the couch, watching the Olympics and reading. A vet came in the evening, and we peacefully said goodbye, still in our favorite spot.
The days after were really hard because I work from home, so she was literally everywhere I went, so I felt her absence acutely.
I’m going to be honest: I didn’t realize how much work Snow Boots did. I was totally useless for the rest of the week (ok fine, maybe a bit longer than that).
While she wasn’t a model employee, always sleeping on the job and disrupting workflows, she was the steady presence every employee needs in their lives. Through new jobs, layoffs, disappointments, maternity leave, and the everyday monotony of life, she was there.
Even after spending the day together, she was always down for an after-work hangout. It didn’t matter what kind of day I had — she was going to sit in my lap whether I wanted her to or not.
Nearly everyone who commented on the news of her death said things like, “We’ll miss seeing her on team meetings,” and “She was my coworker, too.”
I immediately got rid of her bed (and all her stuff) because I couldn’t look at it. There’s an empty place in my office and in my heart, but I will always be grateful for her unwavering support at work and at home.
Epilogue
My 7-year-old son is insisting on getting a cat he can name and cuddle, so stay tuned for part two: A new cat in the office.
