Serena, not Sabrina

As a child I grew up with dogs, but for my moms 35th birthday, I got my first cat.(Yes, I know, twisted logic for me to get a cat on her birthday). We went to the pets mart, and looked around, and I went straight for the cat with the half pink/half black nose who nibbled my fingers and had the softest coat. At the store, they give the animals names just to make them seem more appealing, and this one came with the name "Serena". My mom begged for me to change it, saying that it was a silly name for a cat and that I should change it to Sabrina. Being the little obstinant child that I was at the age of 7. So she was my Serena, she followed me around everywhere, she was my baby, and despite how allergic I was to her, I loved her so much.
Since we first got her we've had other cats show up since we got Serena, the first was a orange tabby that I called Cat(like in Breakfast at Tiffanys), but my next door neighbor took him when she moved. And on the first day of school of my 6th grade year Cally showed showed up at our door. Serena being "the first child" of our family, was jealous and started peeing on our beds(gross, right?) but being my baby, I still loved her. And since then we've lost one more Cat, Cally, and gained one, my Rigby(or King Rigbius,Rigs).

Yesterday though, while we were eating dinner at my grandparents house, some dogs in our neighborhood attacked and killed Serena in our front yard. Thankfully, some of our neighbors were walking home and saw what was happening so they beat off the dogs and stayed with her, so she wasn't alone. They then wrapped her up and left her on our front porch, since we weren't home. They called us and left us a message, so when we got home, my parents listened to the message and I knew something was wrong when they both came upstairs and looked at me pathetically while I was watching 90210.

Lets just say I was absolutely devastated, I mean I'm sobbing as I type this.

I know it may seem like she was only a cat, but she was my baby and I'd had her for 11 years. She was fat and cryed alot, but we would still have our little meowing conversations in the hall, where she'd sit on my lap and whine and I'd scratch her back.

I knew that she would eventually die, I mean she was old. But I just can't believe that she went this way. That she was in our own front yard and was viciously attacked. Atleast I have the comfort of knowing that someone was with her when she died, and that she knew I loved her more than anything.

(rena, bina, rere, bobina)