Last week, our youngest cat Finley passed away at the much-too-young age of fifteen.
Finley came into our lives by (extremely happy) accident. Back in the L.A. days, Jenn and I were running errands in Canoga Park when a spontaneous pet store visit brought a Kitten Rescue adoption event before our eyes. Jenn fell in love with Finn’s crafty nature at first sight, and I wasn’t far behind.
Finn brought a clever, intrepid nature to his new forever home, a sparkling personality full of charm, energy, and attitude. This made him a great sibling for his new brothers: Cairo (who cuddled Finn) and Oslo (who followed him around with nerdy curiosity). Finn was wickedly smart, too, and uncommonly communicative — manipulating his parents, training his brothers to watch TV, and occasionally creating problems for himself. (One time, trapped behind a closed door to prep for a vet visit, he spent all night trying to turn the doorknob and somehow managed to turn the lock instead, forcing Jenn to kick the door down like a drug-busting cop the next morning.) Even in his declining days, Finn never lost his zest for the finer things in his life. He put on a brave face every day, gracing us with his adoring, inquisitive gazes, affectionate purrs, and quiet “hello” meows whenever we entered his field of view.
Finn was a loveable, preternatually soft, clever, action-packed, precious creature with a huge personality. His passing leaves a hole in our hearts. Rest in peace, Finley Hunter Reese (2011–2026) — you were the best.
