Sadly, one of my parents' cats in NY has been taken away
from us, far, far too early.

He showed up at our house years ago, a skinny, yowling,
unneutered orange adolescent.  Dad, of course, said "don't
feed that cat".  Mom, of course, fed him.  Got him checked
at the vet, and put a collar on him, with our phone number.

He went away a few days later, and we got a call asking "what
was the collar was doing on their cat?  We explained, and figured
that was the end of it.

Mikey had a different idea.  He came back five times.  We called,
they came and picked him up. Days later, he was back.  The fifth
time, they didn't return our call.  Mikey, who still wasn't
neutered, was, and became part of the household.

Five months later, a call was left on our phone, asking if
their cat was there, because their son really missed him.  Dad
never returned their call, but had the vet give him copies
of all the medical treatments done to Mikey, as well as a
list of the vets room and board charges, in case they decided
to come looking.  They never did.

Mikey filled out.  He developed a thick, long orange coat, long
fluffy tail, and a thick ruff around his neck.  He loved getting
brushed, and wanted to be friends with everyone in the house.
He'd patrol the house, giving out his particular two toned meow,
looking for someone to play with, or at least a lap to hang
out in.  When Mom read the newspaper, he'd jump up in her lap
and sit on the paper.  He had big platter paws, so we always
teased him about having catcher's mitts.  His legs were a little
shorter than our other cats, so it took him longer to master
the tree that led to the sun porch, but he looked so cocky the
day he finally made it up there.

You couldn't have a closed door without one of those big furry
paws poking under it.  He'd come in to wherever you were, and flop
down.  You didn't even have to pet him, and he'd purr.

He loved being able to go out, and in, and out, along with the other
cats.  At night, he'd put himself to bed downstairs in the basement.

All four of the cats have a game.  They wait for the garage door to
get almost closed, then run in.  One door opener is newer, and has
the safety sensors.  The other door opener is much older, and doesn't.
My parent's just had the doors replaced a few months back.  Apparently
the older lifter wasn't calibrated properly after they replaced it.

Mikey lost the game when no one was looking.

We'll miss you, little man.  You've left a large, furry orange hole in
our lives.  We're richer for having had you, but oh so much sorrier
that you're gone.  We should have been able to help you grow old,
brushing your fur, scratching your neck ruff.  You'll never have to
worry about getting old now, and you'll have plenty of playmates where
you are now, but we will miss you so very, very much.

Mom, Dad, Chris, and all the fur kids you've gone ahead of.