She was not a killer. She was not even rambunctious. Lazy? The word was invented for her. She was a professional napper, a slow walker, and, up until 6-months-ago, a very quiet cat.
She was playful, and extremely affectionate, played with our dogs, unless they played with other cats, then the dogs would be disassociated. She never brought home a trophy kill, liked to sleep in the street, made cars go around her or wait on her as she slowly... very slowly, sauntered across the street.
Guinevere had been dubbed the "neighborhood greeter" by the realtors in our area as she would walk up to every car and greet the people climbing out of them. A realtor caravan was an exceptional treat as there would be many hands available for petting at one time
In the last few years, Guinevere became arthritic and no longer did a great job of grooming herself, which resulted in mats followed by unsightly haircuts. We laughed at her and teased her, but she never complained. with in the last year, her hearing went and along with that, came very loud, obnoxious meowing...much to my delight. I may have been kicked out of bed at 3am on a couple occasions for replying back in an equally obnoxious meow. 
They say that when we grow old, we revert back to our childhood state. I can say that this was true for Guinevere too. In the past 6 months, she started climbing on the table, getting into food that was left unattended, knocking stuff off of counters...all things she had not done in years. Both Apollo and Orion took great interest in Guinevere over the years and of late, Apollo could not get enough of her, often finding her and laying her across his lap while she purred and napped. She would make Apollo laugh all the time when climbing on the tables or his desk or knocking things on the floor. The louder she meowed the louder he would laugh.
As for myself, I tend to have a darker sense of humor. I've been telling people for the last two years that Guinevere has used up 8 and 3/4 of her nine lives. Every time her bag of food got close to empty, I would look at Guinevere and say, "You're going to make us buy another bag of food aren't you?" Then I would protect my groin for fear of Melanie's retribution. Weekly, I would make sure Melanie was in earshot and I would ask, "Do you want me to start digging a hole for you?" while petting Guinevere. It didn't make me the most popular person in the house, but truth be told, I really did love that cat.
As I am sure you can guess, Guinevere used up that last 1/4 life. Her love of sleeping in the road, under cars, and her extreme deafness, finally caught up to her. Still, in her final minutes, she exuded the same grace that she lived by. We picked up her limp body from the road, her head propped up and her eyes watching us as if nothing was wrong, and not complaining. We rushed her to the emergency vet hospital, but not in hopes of fixing her but to give her sweet soul an easier passing. In her final moments, as I held her in my arms and just before the vet administered her a narcotic, Guinevere rolled her head back around and looked up at me, her eyes meeting mine, and she just stared. I scratched her head gently and told her it was okay, then nodded to the vet to proceed. At 7:42pm on Tuesday May 30th, Guinevere slipped away quietly.
In the days that followed, our house was eerily silent. No loud meows in the predawn hours, nothing being knocked from the boys desk, no plea's to fill up her half empty food bowl, no limping sound on the wood floors...just silence. Melanie and I both still looked for her under our cars when we went to leave the house, over the next few days, half expecting her to be there.
A week later, we are getting used to her being gone, but we miss her dearly.
Say hello to the rest of the zoo and god speed, Lady Guinevere.
