Gray kitty. You blew into the neighborhood behind REI 15 years ago. Jennifer told me about you. Her neighbors “adopted you.” When I met you, I saw that their idea of adoption was leaving the garage door open a few inches. You had a big gash on your right thigh.
I looked at the neighbors and said, “I’m taking her.”
That night, you sat on my lap while I ate supper at Jennifer’s. Then, you purred on my lap driving home to our little house in Park City.
You fit right in with the Cat, Mandu. Being all gray and having an old soul, the name Maude chose you.
Your old soul taught me patience.
Do you remember when you spent the entire evening on the gray wool yoga blanket? I called and called for you. I cooed “Here kitty, kitty, kitty . . .” But, you never came. I had all the neighbors out looking for you while you slept under the coffee table–camoflage.
When you crossed the bridge, I think the Cat, Mandu, Gorby, Midas, Faith, Princess, the Little Prince, Diesel, Booker T. Washington, Hefty Hefner, Mr. Sunny Sunny Bun Bun, Timmy, Maggie Mae, Fluffy, Blackie . . .and, Dad and Dwight met you. You won’t sneeze anymore. Breathing will be easy.
Please stay close.
You’re purrfect. I love you.
Hooker's Horde 