Written by Rebecca and Brian Hull

Demi came into my husband’s life in 2012 after being rescued in a barn in the middle of winter with frostbite on her ears. They formed such a strong bond that when I came into the picture in 2016, Demi made sure to let me know that I will always be the spare human. Her fierce loyalty chose Brian through and through; Only coming when he called her, choosing to only lay with him on the couch or on his side of the bed and screaming for him at the door when she heard him pull up in the driveway. I got the side eye most of the time when Brian was around. But when he wasn’t, she would follow me around, meowing at my feet and allowing me to love on her. Pretending she didn’t just ignore me the night before. She loved me, she just didn’t want anyone else to know.

Demi had the softest fur. Everyone who met her complimented her on it. I always said her fur was magic. She never shed, we never had cat hair on our clothes, we never had to use a lint brush. Somehow, her fur smelled like sunshine and roses, even after bathing herself with her stinky fish breath. I was always sticking my face right up to her and breathing in her smell, smothering her in kisses. A truly tolerant girly. She was always in search of a new sun spot on the ground. Her black fur would be radiating heat. And if the sun hit it right, it looked like she was covered in sparkles.

Her medical issues have never defined her, however they do show how resilient she was. In 2020 we noticed a small lump on her paw. If the entire world falling apart wasn’t enough, we now had a diagnosis of cancer on hand (pun intended). She had the cancer surgically removed with clear margins and was declared cancer free a few weeks later. Then she had a rough 2025. Her cancer came back and she was diagnosed with kidney disease and chronic pancreatitis. Being 14 years old and more high risk with her other medical issues, we chose not to operate and instead manage with medications. I’m thankful that this allowed us 8 more months with her.

I miss her little tap shoe footsteps on the hardwood floors as she came to find us in the house. I miss her sticking her elevator butt high in the air demanding butt pats. I miss her never relenting need to eat grass when we let her outside, and immediately throw it up when we got back inside. And I miss the way we never knew what blanket she had made a nest inside and was sleeping in on the couch.

We knew we wanted to honour Demi as a tattoo not as who she was but how she was. She was very peculiar in the way she slept on blankets; She needed the blanket to be folded in thirds. She needed to lay on the bottom “two layers”, and then we were required to place “a lid” with the remaining blanket overtop of her. Thus the term “two layers and a lid” was coined in our household. Our tattoos are simply that, two layers and a lid. We placed them on our inner bicep as a way to symbolize tucking her in next to our body, the same way we tucked her into those blankets every single day. A simple, abstract way of honouring her silly little routine that we will never forget.

Forever tucking each other in.

Rest easy Demi girl.