Once I had a cat.
I named her Garfield, as Garfield the famous yellow cat in comic strip. The first time I met her, she was little and went astray.  I was on my way home when I heard this meow. I never knew why she called me. But I am always grateful for that. It was like fate brought us together. I carried her to my home with me. From this day, what I ate, she ate; where I lived, she lived; and every time I was idle, I played with her. She was such a nice cat; when I was busy, she just lay down in her place, stared at me and waited for me. She was a free spirit, always wanted to go exploring around. But I was scared that she get lost or someone cat-nap her. I had to keep her tied-up. Then one month ago, I let her go at night for a roaming. She ran away from me. This was the last time I saw her. Now I know that I will never see her again.

Life is unfair.

When you loved someone, attached to someone, even "someone" is only a cat then you realize you will never see her again, never touch her again, never ever could hold her in your arms again. It is impossible to not cry every time I think about her. To me, she is not only a cat, an animal or a pet. She is a part of me. She is like Little Prince's rose. She is special. Unique.

At this moment, I feel I could give up a kingdom just to have one more chance to hold her in my arm.

Goodbye, Garfield.