Cats

This morning Mickey was fishing for Gooey Fish to feed the cat. On Handy Manny, Mr. Lopart gave an oration of how much he loved Fluffy. On our way to school, we found Smokey dead in the street.
On such a day seemingly dedicated to cats, we were heartbroken to find ours in rigor.
He was a really pretty cat. Everyone always thought so. Fittingly, he died...prettily. His eyes were open, his fur blowing in the wind....his tail still fluffy, all as if he were frozen in time.
My heart hurts for my husband. Smokey picked him at the pound. He was a gorgeous 10 month old grey and white cat with white "socks". He loved on Michael and it was all over. The next day, we rushed back to adopt our kitty. Michael was indeed his Owner. He would play-fight with him and nip at his hands. He'd always come when Michael called and his favorite spot every night was lying at Michael's feet. Ever so often, Michael would awake to find that Smokey had snuck up beside him and was stretched out as long as a cat could be along his side.
My heart also hurts for my daughter. "Meow" trumped anything...even Grandma. Any time Smokey walked through the room, my little cherub's eye's would light up and a resounding "meow, meow" would fill the room. I'm pretty sure it was her 2nd word. They would spend evenings playing chase. The cat would run and Addison would chase him. She LOVED this game. I don't think he minded much either because he would only run as far as to get out of reach and would wait until Addison came toddling back over to him. He'd even grin and bear it as she grabbed handfuls of fur and buried her face in his fluffy coat. He was a good good cat. And I am sad he's gone.