Cowboy
August 1994-January 20, 2007
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Cowboy was a rescue kitty in every sense of the word. He used to live with a family next to my mother-in-law's house who left him outside in the rain when he was just a little baby, with no shelter and things like spaghetti for dinner. We needed to get him out of there before it was too late and Evae's mom was our partner in crime. One day she called and said she had the kitty, did we want him? We drove down there in a hurry, packed him in a cardboard box to get him out of the house unseen and took him home with us where he got to live like a king for the rest of his life.

Cowboy was the sweetest, most patient kitty there was. All he ever wanted from life was to get brushed all day or sit in your lap. Or both. He would often very gently lift up his front paw at you to remind you that he hadn't been petted or brushed in the last 3 minutes. He was a very smart cat, he could read our body language to the point of perfection. The moment Evae put down his fork after the last bite at dinner, there came the kitty to insist on his share of petting. His timing was always impeccable; we never could figure out how he knew we were completely done. We didn't see the difference no matter how many times we tried to watch for signs or indications; even when we tried to fake it he got it right.

All of our other cats and dogs liked Cowboy because he was so easy-going and stayed out of everyone's way. He was definitely at the bottom of the pecking order but he was very happy there because he always managed, in a gentle and unassuming way, to manipulate the situation to his advantage. He was our most social cat making friends with all of our guests so he could get petted and petted and petted some more.

Cowboy died of a tumor in the brain that slowly took away his motor functions. When he stopped eating voluntarily, we knew it was time to let him go. He is now in kitty heaven with his best friend Happy.

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