And he was beautiful. I remember waking up next to him, so happy to be laying in the sunlight, and how it glint off every fiber of his orange fur, and how his eyes just seemed to be closed in almost transcendent relaxation. It always left me with a hint of jealousy. Why can I never be that grateful for simply sleeping in the Sun's Light? I spent my entire adult life with him. He came from the hard streets of Kensington. He was a young, but not a kitten. And he was friendly to every human he ever met. He would come up to anyone, even during the retarded parties I would have during my early 20's. Parties with danger black people, and people fucked up on Molly. And he would just look and these people, completely unafraid of their erratic behavior. He would loom them in the eyes. And he would turn his head. And say >Meow? He was so friendly, and so cute. But he was also a vicious killer. Despite living on a shitty block in Philly, We never had mice. He would Kill Them. And Eat Them. All except the digestive tract. He was too dignified to eat any shit. He was loyal to a fault. O-Dog would follow me to the ends of the Earth, or at least wherever I was in the house at the current time. He was my companion for 13 years. Most of my adult life. He was a really good cat. And now he is Gone. Rest in Peace O-Dog. Although, to be honest, you actually rested in peace a lot during your life, so just continue that. I love you. -Theo