My favorite cat, Stanley, died sometime today. I last saw him this morning preening himself on our bed. Adrienne discovered him there this evening looking all the world like he was sleeping. He seemed so healthy, but I did know that he had a ticking bomb somewhere, as he'd had a few seizures over the years, and the vet had told us several years ago that he had a heart irregularity, but really, there was nothing that could be done about it. I guess it finally caught up with him, but it seems like he went out without pain, and in a peaceful manner -- which given all the possibilities, isn't so bad. Still, we are quite upset, and Marjorie, away at NMU, is devastated.
Stanley was athletic, he loved to sit on my shoulder, talk to me, and he was always very lovable. Just last night he was on the couch and was enjoying being rubbed and adored. This morning I called his name and he came running, almost like a dog. When our dog Mac (who died on June 2, 2007) was alive, Stanley would play games with him, such as jump over Mac when he ran past a doorway. He also had a penchant for catching and dispatching chipmunks, and though we was a house cat, we would let him into the backyard along with Kosh and Phantom, the other two cats -- when we were home-- for a few hours at a time. Stanley seemed to catch on and soon figured out the chipmunks.
I will miss his goofy ways, such as him dragging a little stuffed toy sheep around the house and meowing, talking to me when he wanted catnip, and his affection. Truly, he was a unique cat that was a part of our lives. He will be remembered as a great feline companion.