My Baby

The following is a memoir I wrote in seventh grade about my cat dying, following the prompt "Who is your hero?":

I gently stroked his fun, being careful not to bump into the IV card in his left arm. He tried to purr, but couldn't. The doctors said that he might not recognize us from the oxygen tank, but I knew that he knew it was us by the way that he lie in there, and the way he watched me from behind glassy eyes.
"I love you baby." I cooed. "I'm so sorry. I love you baby." His ears turned up every time that I said "baby." Even though his name was Watson, I only every called him my "baby." He was my baby. He knew it was me.
I hated this condition! Stealing my baby away from me! Why? What was wrong with him? Why my cat? Only now, five months later, do I even have the slightest idea what was going on. I was a rare condition, where a duct in his lung cavity was not sealed correctly. From this space, a fluid called chial flowed into his lung cavity, crushing his lungs. So, this was why he had been "coughing" so much,
How long had this been going on? A year. My baby had been suffering for a year. He had "coughed," but that's all we through it was, a cough. Maybe he had a cold, maybe hay-fever, maybe is was just a hairball. Never did we consider this. I didn't even know it existed! We didn't notice waht was going on, but he loved us anyway. He still played with us, he still purred. We never noticed until it was loo late. He was dying inside. He tried to tell us, but we didn't know, and he loved us anyway. He was the best cat that I have ever had. He was hurting and we didn't know, but instead of avoiding us, instead of disapproving or condemning us, he loved us, and showed us that. He lived life to its fullest because he knew that it would soon be gone. He has taught me to never take for granted the greatest gift in the world: life. This is the one memory I want to keep forever. I never want to forget this; I never want to forget my baby.