This post has nothing to do with marketing or small businesses. Please come back tomorrow and we’ll have more of that information. This post is about eulogizing a tiny, smelly, loving little critter who wormed her way into our hearts and left us much too soon.

We first saw Maybee on a visit to a prospective client, a local veterinary office. As they showed us around their examination rooms and surgery suite, we couldn’t help but notice the small cat with beautiful reddish-brown fur and huge green eyes. The tour ground to a screeching halt as the entire team stopped to coo at the young cat. Her name was Maybee, our guide told us, and she was looking for a home. She was the only survivor of a litter dropped on the side of the road, and when a good Samaritan stopped, she jumped into the car and curled up into the front seat like it belonged to her. That was Maybee.

Lorraine will tell you getting the cat was all my idea, but you should have seen the look on her face when she looked at Maybee. It was love at first sight. So we made a deal: If we landed the client, we got the cat. The rest is history.

Maybee was an immediate hit at the office, curling up into laps of employees and clients with equal love and abandon. She and Clyde weren’t great friends, but they mostly tolerated each other, save for their daily 9 a.m. sparring matches. Bonnie mostly ignored her, as she ignores most feline things. Maybee charmed everyone with her kitten-like looks and her sweet personality. But not all was well.

Thanks to former intern and Humane Society volunteer Brittany Wright, we realized that something was wrong with Maybee. Dr. Greg Magnusson of Leo’s Pet Care gave us the news: kidney disease. She could live for months, she could live for years, there was no way of knowing.

And for a while, she did live, and she lived a good life. We hired Peter, in part, because of how well Maybee took to him–and how he took to her. Every morning, she climbed onto Jenna’s shoulder like a furry parrot. She tolerated being dressed in dinosaur costumes for Halloween, being cuddled and loved by everyone. She learned to beg for treats and to sneak drinks from anyone’s water glass.

But despite our best efforts, the disease took its toll. We did what we could with medication and fluids and love, but this past weekend, the time came to let Maybee go. She fought as hard as she could, but any quality of life vanished and we said goodbye.

It’s a strange thing for an office to have pets, but they’re so much a part of who we are. The office is a little sadder today without Maybee. Will we get another cat? We haven’t decided yet. Right now we’re still in mourning. And so we’ll say goodbye with the words I sang to Lorraine to persuade her to adopt the tiny, lovable cat:

“So maybe now this prayer’s the last one of its kind.
Won’t you please come get your baby? Maybe.”