You came into my life quietly and without invitation, your whiskered little face pressed up against my window eyeing my knitting basket with a wistful expression.

One hot summer day you found that window casually left open, you made your way in. I found you there. The basket and the knitting too, became yours so much time later.

You looked more like Walter Mathau than any cat should. Old before your time, but scrappy. The women at the PAWS shelter named you ‘Romeo,’ because, they said “he’s a lover not a fighter.” So true. Many abused animals turn violent at little provocation. You were always so loving. You’d grouse and you’d grump as I came up the walk about where I’d been all day and did I know your Friskies were stale. But the moment I picked you up to hold you, you purred like a small fuzzy Harley engine.

There’s nothing you’ve loved more than dinner, a snuggle and a few quiet moments on a sunny day under that camelia bush in the back yard.

I regret your early years were so filled with pain and confusion. It was horribly wrong of those people to hurt you like that. Yours is such a gentle little soul.

You were a gift to that silly frat-boy next door. He wasn’t unkind, but he didn’t pay much notice to you, either. I don’t know why you ran from him and you stayed with me. I don’t know why you looked at me and saw ‘home,’ but I know that your presence in my life gave me comfort in some hard and hurtful times. Not only in that your cranky little face always looked up at me and purred, but seeing to your myriad needs gave me purpose outside my own.

More than anything in life, I suspect we gave each other sanctuary.

Goodnight, little buddy. Yours was such a gentle little soul.



Romeo, 1985 - 2004
Beloved friend and faithful companion