She passed on at the ripe old age (for a cat) of 18, and I grieved for her the longest while.
One day I lay down for my nap, dozed off, and was half-woken by what felt like a slight weight on my chest. Then, still half-asleep, I heard it: a soft, steady purring, as from afar. But I knew, groggily, what it was--and who it was.
"Hello, My Lady," I said, rubbing the air a few inches above my chest. "It's good to have you back..."