A remembrance to our beloved family cat Morris
(August 1992-10 February 1999)

On a sunny day in August 1992, while visiting my in-laws, a friend appeared with two kittens, so small, not even weaned from their mother. One had been attacked a dog and was severely injured. My Father-in-Law took this injured kitten to the emergency vet. There was nothing that could be done for this pour soul. It was laid to rest. The other cat, ever so cute needed a home. We already had two cats, but this kitten needed a home and a lot of care and attention, so we adopted him. We named him Morris.

Morris was in sad shape, under nourished and needed medical treatment, our veterinarian took care of that. For the first few weeks, we had to bottle feed him and teach him to walk. He was ever so cute. As he developed he became more vibrant and had lots of energy. He was a friendly and playful cat. He loved the outdoors and to hunt. He would come home with birds, garden snakes and anything else he could find. He would wake early in the morning, and could not wait to get outside to play. He would sit on the wall waiting for the commuters to pass by on their way to the train station, and he would meow at them, so they would stop and pet him (and they did). He loved the attention that he received. When we would call him, you could hear the little bell jingling as he ran toward us. He always came home whenever we called. All of our neighbors adored him, even strangers that saw him when they passed by could not resist his affections. At night he would settle in my computer chair and sleep. Sometimes he would come visit us in the bed room and curl up at our feet. With Morris around, sometimes you did not even need an alarm clock. He would be up bright and early waiting to go outside to play.

Then it happened. Morris started to get sick. He would eat his meals and at times he would not be able to hold it down. This started to happen more often. A visit to our vet reveled that he had developed a hyperactive thyroid condition. At first the medication worked. But the problem continued. Then other problems developed. When he could hold down a meal, he ended up in the litter box all the time. He started to become less active. More trips to the vet. He was placed on more medication, special diets. The pour baby seemed to always be hungry, even with food sitting right in front of him. His condition worsened. If he wasn't holding down his food, he was in the litter box. His coat started to become matte. He was always sick. He was suffering. Then on 10 February 1999, a day that will sadden me forever came. Once again to the vet's office. After a long conversation, and evaluation, it was decided that his quality of life was not good, and that he was suffering so much. So the decision that We never, ever wanted to make, had to be made. Needless to say that he's in Rainbow Bridge, awaiting our arrival and that of Trouble and Kismet. We both miss him so much. --SPT