They prepped his leg and inserted the needle. It took no more than a few seconds for the drug to take effect. He breathed his last breath into my hands as I cradled his head. Just a little sigh, then his head drooped and his eyes closed and, just like that, I lost my furry pal. I brought him home in a shoe box and my neighbor and my housemate, Tina, helped me dig his grave. I guess they didn't want me to have a heart attack or something, trying to do it by myself.

We dug through hard clay, some huge rocks needed to be moved, and I gently placed him at the bottom of the hole. I only said "goodbye my little buddy. You were my good boy." then we placed the largest rocks directly over him and filled the grave.

There will be no marker, and there will be no more animals in my life. This is too hard for me to do.

Yet, as someone said, maybe it's fitting that my new life begins in the shadow of his passing, because the 27th of May, 2008 will be Catherine Linda Michel's first birthday, as I begin my Real Life test. As silly as it might sound, I want to make my little furry buddy proud of me, and the best way to do that is to begin my new life proud, and do it right.

In the shadow of despair, hope can be found. I read that, or something like it, somewhere. My heart will heal, thanks in no small way, to all of you who have so graciously, unselfishly, opened your hearts to my kitty...and me. You gave me hope, and the strength to see this awful thing through.

Grover is right. Our pets never judge us. They only give us every bit of love they have, in the hopes that it will be returned. They only see us as right, their beloved masters or mistresses, yes, even cats do.

So God Bless all of you for the caring and love you have shared with me. Wish me luck and courage in my new life, and join me in a little celebration of one small cat and his life, and the beginning of my new life.

Thank you Roadblock, for sharing your life with me and making me smile and laugh at your antics. Thank you for always being there for me, even when I thought no one was. Thank you for your warm little body against me, and your purrs of delight as I rubbed your tummy for you. Thank you for your smelly litterbox, and your messy eating habits, and your horrible breath, not to mention the awful, stinking, noxious, green clouds that arose each time you used your litterbox. Thank you for being my "good boy." I will miss you always, but the gift you gave me will temper, in time, my grief and the sense of loss that I feel right now. You're where I can always find you, and I will visit you often. I love you, my little buddy. Farewell. Dream sweet dreams of fat, juicy mice and willing lady cats. Goodnight, furball.

I love you all.

Catherine Linda Michel...now and forever more!