The Cat, Mandu, allowed me to hold him like a baby.  One Friday, after school, I scooped him up and found him noticeably lighter.

Living with Dwight, Mandu mastered the art of urinating in the toilet.  Without that skill, I’m not sure I would have noticed the blood in his urine.

We pumped him full of antibiotics.  But, as the weekend progressed, he seemed to get worse.  His fur started to fall out when I pet him.

When I rubbed my hand from his ears to his tail, a handful of fur stuck to my palm.

Mandu’s eyes were cloudy.

I called Dwight.

One month after we were married, Dwight’s youngest son died in a car accident.  I learned that mourning was easier when it was done together.  Therefore, when Gorby was unable to walk, I called Dwight before letting him go.  When Midas’ lungs filled with cancer, I called Dwight.

Dwight said, “I thought at least one of our pets would out live me.”

Recognizing that I support myself and the animals, a few days later, a check for $100 arrived along with this note.

Now, years later, the note still sticks to my icebox.

Dwight is still with me.