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allieboy

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  1. I cannot begin to tell you how much your words mean to us. The fact that you caught a glimpse of Boy from our story is so special for him, and comforting to us. From the bottom of our broken hearts, thank you. Lani and Bob
  2. Two weeks ago yesterday, we had to unexpectedly say goodbye to our furry feline beast my groom and I called "Boy." Please allow me this moment to tell you a bit about him. I wish you could have known this little character. He was being taken to be put to sleep at the SPCA when I spotted him in the arms of the tech walking through the waiting room of the pound 11 years ago. He was a six-month-old very sick little kitty and the pound didn't have the time or the ability to get him well. He came from a home with 30 other cats that morning. Apparently it was a husband and wife who had them. When the husband died, his wife dragged his body to the foot of the driveway and went back inside. Needless to say, the cats were removed from the house and she was taken to the hospital for mental evaluation. Boy was the sickest of the bunch, and my heart broke. I literally took him out of the tech's arms in the blanket in which he was wrapped, promised them that I wouldn't bring him back, and worked hard to make him well. And we never looked back. He was the house clown - he slept on his head and snored pretty loud, seemed to be on ice skates when he ran after a play mouse, and when he jumped up on something, he would land on his back legs, giving the illusion that he hovered for just a second before landing. he took up half our bed when he slept with us, literally snorted his food, and took over the back of our leather chair as his bed. Because he was deaf, his meow was more like a "call of the wild," and he was unflappable. No matter who came to the house, he would come over and hit them with his paw until they pet him, and pet him, and pet him. He was such a lover. And he was fearless - I still laught when I remember the day he leaped over a pile of laundry not even knowing what was on the other side. He was a real trooper after his diabetes diagnosis last July. We home-tested him and gave him his shots without one fuss on his part. He just laid in Bob's arms, literally cooing and squeaking. I think he loved the attention. We were so proud of him when his numbers remained normal and we could stop the insulin, and we really thought he would be on the road to his old crazy self. Unfortunately, that was not to be. The morning we took him to the vet two weeks ago, we had every expectation that we would be given a prescription to fill, or that he would be diagnosed with diabetic neuropathy and put on the path to getting well. The fact that he was shown to have an inoperable brain tumor was such a shock. The agonizing decision to return to the vet to hold him as we said goodbye was something we didn't think in a million years would have to be made that day. I still don't know how we took that ride knowing that it would be the last time we would hold him in this world. We're trying very hard to help Allie, our remaining beast, adjust to life in the house without her companion - even though I think he frightened her in the last few months. There were a lot of hisses after he would follow her around the house getting a little too close and just standing and staring. We don't know if we should get her another cat or kitten for company and we're putting off that decision until after the new year. We figure that Boy will put a furry beast in our paths if it's the right thing to do. We're not sure what the thinking is about that. They were together for 11 years, mostly close in the last 6. Allie has been particularly clingy the last few days - we wonder if part of that is that she is now getting all of the attention, something Boy got a lot of since he got sick. Two days ago we received Boy's ashes. I can't even describe the feeling as we held that box with his remains. Right now I can't bear to let them go or bury them outside when it's getting so cold here in Philadelphia. And because we don't want to stay in this city forever, I don't want to have to leave him here. So he is staying inside where I feel better knowing he's safe and warm -even though I know it's just his body. Call me crazy, but I truly know that we will see him again. We just can't get past the knowledge that he'll never again walk our floors. Boy's death was a huge loss in our hearts and in our home. I keep thinking that he came to us in a blanket, and he left us in one as well. It feels right now like we'll never recover. I know that's not the case. And we know that little bundle, with the huge personality, is not really gone. It would be impossible to extinguish such a force. Perhaps this is his eulogy. I just wanted you to know him - our buddy Boy. He is deeply missed. Lani and Bob
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