What I would like to write about Andy is that he was the friendliest cat I've ever met.  He spent most of the time in front of our house, slept on top of the car (which we called "Andy's bedroom,") and waited for us to come out as if it were the big event of his day. 

As soon as he saw me, he trotted over, chirping all the way -- his mother must have been a bird -- and rolled over my shoes, back and forth.  If I was going for a walk, he would walk between my feet (complicating my balance slightly), leaning first against one ankle and then leaning against the other.  Neighbours would say, "Oh look, you're taking your cat for a walk." 

And it's the memory of that warm little body pressed against my legs that really pierces my heart. Our driveway is so empty now, that before I go out in the morning, I have to picture a brown tabby with a shining light around his head waiting for me before I can go outside.  

But even though I'm heartbroken, I can recognize that Andy drew a winning ticket in the lottery of life and death.  He was gone before he knew it, had no wounds and no bleeding.  He simply appeared to be asleep.  And everybody who touched his body handled it with tenderness.  The neighbour who wrapped him in a blanket was a nurse who has had umpteen cats and dogs and thought he was simply in shock until she felt for his pulse and couldn't find it.

To know that he zoomed through the pearly gates and woke up in heaven is a great comfort. 

Lynn and Jerry Schiffhorst  

One Cat is Company

"One cat is company.
Two cats are a conspiracy. 
Three cats is an attempted takeover.
Four or more cats is a complete coup!"

Shona Steele (Australia)

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