Sly

You came to us in 1994 having been found in a neighbor's window well. The neighbor asked us if you were our cat. We looked at each other and decided, "Yes, you were our cat." Our first ever.

In many ways, you reminded us more of a dog. You came when called, you were always by our side, you sat out on the porch with us, and you never once left the yard.

When bedtime came, it was your nightly manner to lie upon my chest and purr for a while, before moving to the foot of the bed where you typically slept through the night.

We could never understand though, what was going in your mind as you carried rubber snakes around in your mouth, howling and crying, and then squatting atop of them in some sort of bizarre ritual.

And oh, how you loved to sit in the upstairs bathroom window, looking out on the world from your loft, gazing down onto the gardens with the birds and the butterflys that would fascinate you for hours on end.

And water bowls? Who needed a water bowl? You drank straight from the gooseneck faucet of the bathroom tub or sink.

In the end, your final resting place was to become the very spot you often dozed -- in the flower garden, beneath the branches of the locust tree.

We'll miss you Buddy. And we'll never forget the love and companionship that you brought to our family.

Bob Byer