I had it in my head that I could write this as a kind of three beautiful things. And so I will, but be warned, if you have a pet, had a pet or cried when you saw Old Yeller, you may not like this post. I know I don't.
Three Beautiful Things about Timmy
1) Knowing him when he was just a little ball of gray and black fluff at 11 hours old, eyes closed, mewing quietly. Seeing him for the first time and knowing that he'd be the kitten I begged my parents to let me take home. Bonding with him and playing with him for the five weeks before he came home with me. Feeding him formula for the next few weeks, because his mother's owners hadn't wanted to keep the kittens any longer than five weeks. To his very last day, to his very last hours, he was happy to sit on my lap, knead my stomach and nuzzle against me, purring.
2) Hearing his lovely little meow whenever I saw him. He would talk. Other animals of ours whine and complain, but Timmy talked (how hard it was to type "talked" instead of "talks"), chattered and had full-fledged conversations with people.
3) Being with him at the end as I was with him at the beginning. Being able to kiss him, sing him his special songs and help him pass on peacefully to a heaven I believe is populated by the other animals we've lost and a wealth of great-grandmothers and others who will happily listen to his chatter and hold him in their laps. Keeping a promise I made to know him his entire life and to not let him be alone at the end.