This week, we're going to let Mama borrow our column. She wrote a piece about our beloved kitty grammie and wise mentor, Shaughnessy, and we wanted to let her tell the story herself:

After a long, healthy and wonderful life, my family's beloved cat companion, Shaughnessy, died Saturday afternoon at the age of 17.

Shaughnessy was born on Valentine's Day 1987, the daughter of a diminutive calico cat by the name of Iris and a handsome Siamese-cross tom known as Donegal Finagle. Shaughnessy had three brothers and sisters in this litter, and my mother had found homes for all but her. In spite of herself, Mom fell in love with the tiny tortie fuzzball who never left her side as she recovered from an operation on her feet.

Of all the cats we'd had in our care, Shaughnessy was the most people-oriented. She was a home body, never straying far from the house and yard she knew well, and preferring to spend her days indoors while her mother and father roamed about catching mice, voles and whatever else they could.

Ironically, though, Shaughnessy was one of the best-traveled cats I'd ever known. She was my companion when I moved to Portland and shared an apartment with two college friends, a never-ending stream of guests and partygoers, and one crazy coon cat by the name of Reeba. She came with me to Old Town, when I left the economically dismal world of the early '90s for a year of graduate school, and moved back to the family farm with me when I realized that grad school was even worse for my soul than a McJob and the crushing despair of urban life. She lived in Rockland with me for a year and a half until I noticed that she was so depressed by being kept indoors and left alone most of the day while I was at work, that the kindest thing I could do for her was bring her back to the home she loved.

And back home was where she flourished. Her fur and eyes got brighter, she gained weight, and her whiskers and tail once again stood high. When my mother adopted a puppy, Shaughnessy became the dog's second mother. Even when Aki grew up to her full size of 120 pounds and almost six feet tall if she stood on her rear legs, the 10-pound Shaughnessy was still the boss. All she had to do was give Aki a glance, and Aki would defer to her in whatever decisions had to be made.

As time went on, Aki and Shaughnessy became inseparable companions. Many times when I visited my mother's house, I would see the two of them curled up together in Aki's dog bed, happy as could be. They even played together. Sometimes, Shaughnessy would get Aki excited, and Aki would bound around the living room making her famous "mmfff! mmff!"bark with her springy tail bouncing and a huge doggie smile on her face.

Shaughnessy was tolerant and accepting of other creatures. When I adopted Sinéad and Siouxsie and brought them to my mother's house for a visit, Shaughnessy watched their kittenish antics with droll detachment, until she tired of their "catch Grammie Shaughnessy's tail" game and swatted them gently to put them in their place. When my nieces were babies, in all their reaching-and-grabbing glory, Shaughnessy let them handle her without leaving a single scratch.

Shaughnessy was one of the store mascots at my mother's metaphysical shop--the others being her kitty mother, Iris (who died in 1999 at the age of 19) and her beloved Aki-dog. Shaughnessy allowed thousands of tourists, hurting people and bereaved pet owners the opportunity to get a dose of kitty love and compassion. She wore the mantle of Queen of All Eastern Cats, passed to her when Iris died, with dignity and quiet pride.

Everyone in Mom's neighborhood knew and loved Shaughnessy. One of her best kitty friends was Cleo, a cat who lived with one of my mother's neighbors. When my mother let Shaughnessy outside, she would generally run up the stairs and to Cleo's door, where she meowed loudly until Cleo's human heard her and let her in. Shaughnessy would then proceed to eat every morsel in Cleo's dish and then meow for more. When Cleo became epileptic and was put on Phenobarbitol--which her human put in her food--Shaughnessy's interest in Cleo's yummies began to wane.

We'd all thought Shaughnessy was going to die a month or so ago, when she went through a period of not eating and looking...well...just kind of peakéd. But then she rallied, got her appetite, her meow and her activity level back. She wandered around the house, basked outdoors, visited with Cleo, and generally was her old self again....until just the day she died.

Mom told me that Shaughnessy had fallen into her water bowl that morning, picked herself up, and gone into her favorite room without eating any breakfast. She'd curled up in her little basket and hadn't moved since then.

My mother called me around 5:00 Saturday afternoon to tell me that the end was near. Shaughnessy was having trouble breathing, staring into space, and twitching. I went over to Mom's house, and when I got there, she had Shaughnessy's basket in her lap. She was holding Shaughnessy's front paws and giving her Reiki, with tears streaming down her face.

After a few moments, my mother asked me to hold Shaughnessy. She put on a CD of beautiful music, burned sage and smudged the three of us with its smoke, and lit some Tibetan incense. I sang to Shaughnessy, stroked her Technicolor tortie fur, rubbed her ears (she used to love that), and told her how much I loved her. By the time Mom sat down across from me, Shaughnessy's breathing had become irregular. I knew it wouldn't be long.

The moment before she died, Shaughnessy's eyes became clear for the first time that day. She looked at Mom with an expression of endless love and gratitude. She twitched, struggled for a breath for one brief second, and collapsed. I felt for a pulse and found none. Mom and I looked at each other with tears in our eyes and smiles on our faces. We knew Shaughnessy had found peace.

After I cried with Mom for a little while, I drove Shaughnessy's earthly remains out to the family farm, My brother Michael and I buried her in our family pet cemetery as we reminisced about her extraordinary life.

Thank you, Shaughnessy, for being such a wonderful companion and friend. Thank you for being a piece of home while I was out in the big world. Thank you for teaching my kitties well. And thank you for giving me the honor of sharing your life, and your death.

Cat of many colors. Harlequin-faced lady. Queen of All Eastern Cats. You will never be forgotten.

Oh, Mama....*sniffle, weep, purrr*

If you have recently lost an animal friend, there are online resources where you can make a tribute to your companion and contact others who understand your feelings and the depth of your loss. Petloss.com is the biggest and most comprehensive of these. You can make a tribute to your companion, find out about online and real-life pet loss support groups, and lots more. For many people, animals are full-fledged members of the family, and the loss of a pet brings real grief and loss. We miss Grammie Shaughnessy, but we know we'll see her again someday.

Got a question? Need some advice? E-mail Sinéad and Siouxsie at advice@paws-and-effect.com. None of the advice in this column is meant to be a substitute for regular veterinary care.