Pets Live On Midnight My brother gave you to my son on his second birthday. Midnight. Black all over except for those green eyes. We had you fixed and you turned gay, inviting other male cats to your place in the garage. When we moved out to the country, you ran away for five days, then turned up on the porch at 5 AM, yowling to get in. Your fur was shiny and you weren't hungry, who knows where you were. But you accepted the move, and dogs and foxes and even the frogs in the pond were afraid of you. You became a watchcat by day and a gentleman by night. Your hair began to turn gray under your chin. At age 16, you got sick. The vet said you had uremia. Nothing we did helped. When the day came to die, I carried you in a blanket out to the porch, where you struggled to get down. You sat on the porch, wobbly, and surveyed your domain one last time. Then you looked up at me to let me know you were ready, and we took you to the vet to be put down. We buried you under the lilac bush, and our whole family stood by that little mound of dirt and cried. We miss you, Midnight. Lovingly Remembered by Lynne Cox Message Board Guest Book E-Mail Close window to return to Pets Live On <a type="audio/mid" href="/somedreamscometrue.mid"></a>