In 1994, I adopted a 4-month old brown tabby kitten.  I named
him Pooka, taken from "Puccha" - the Sanskrit word for cat, so
says my Purina cat book.  I fell in love with Pooka the moment
I first saw him, and he seemed to feel the same about me.  We
were exactly right for each other.

Pooka grew up to be a very handsome fellow, with subtle markings
in brown and black and remarkably soft fur.  He had more than a
little Maine Coon in him and that wonderfully gentle spirit they
have.  He was my best friend, my constant companion, my kid in a
fur coat.  We had many happy years together.

This morning, I took Pooka to the vet for that last time.  Cancer
had taken its toll on my beloved pal and it was clear that he was
no longer enjoying life.  He passed away quietly and gently, just
as he had lived.  He was the best.

I know I'll see him again.