Mister

Mister has been sleeping a lot today. A few minutes ago, he was sprawled out on the wood floor in the dining room. Now, he's on the carpet next to me in my room. He really is a magnificent beast. He bathes regularly, always crosses his paws, and doesn't take cheek from anyone, including me. I've often thought about what I'll do when he dies. I told Issac that I'll have a hat made from his fur so that I can wear him in the winter. But I probably won't really do that. There is a pet cemetery in Huntington. But I probably won't do that either. The funny thing is, I don't really think that he's ever going to kick it. He may have only one tooth, but he can still leave a mark when he bites. He's very protective of our back yard. There is a spunky young Tom who likes to climb the wall and taunt my old man. In a flash, there is a swirling ball of fur and howling snarling scratching cat fury rolling across the well-manicured lawn. And Mister still always wins. As the naughty invader runs for the hills, Meow turns toward the house, mouth full of another's fur, tail puffed, thoroughly annoyed.

I am a little bit concerned about the raccoon that seems to live on the neighbor's roof. Mister had some problems with coons some time back, and it turned me into quite the cat nurse. I came to know quite a bit about dressing open wounds and forcing pills down the feline throat.

Mister is supposedly "retired". The only reason I let him out back is because it's enclosed. And because I know how much he loves being outside. For all of his dignity and refinement, he really is a wild animal at heart. I think that when he finally goes to that big backyard in the sky, I will give him a burial befitting a true warrior. A funeral pyre with catnip sprinkled around to send a sweet aroma up to the heavens, to ensure a safe and effortless journey to the other side.

Yeah right, that cat will outlive me, I'm sure of it.