Schlomo was an orange and white feral cat who had suddenly appeared at the home of my sister's best friend's son until she went to visit him during the summer of 2005. He told her that the cat had just "moved in" the month before and he was thinking of taking him to the local animal shelter. The cat was quite the wild guy, never went to anyone, but he went to Nan. Her friend was more than a little surprised and commented about it many times as Nancy petted him and he purred. When it came time for Nan to leave, she walked to her car, and the orange and white cat followed her, jumping into her car, as she'd left the driver's door opened. No amount of coaxing would make him leave her car and he made himself at home in the backseat. Her friend looked at her, puzzled, but smiling. "It looks like you've been adopted.", he said. So off they went to Nan's house in Corbett, and the beginning of a wonderful relationship between "Schlomo Edelstein", as he'd been dubbed, and Nancy. At first, he would spend time in Nan's barn, catching rodents, sometimes bringing them into her house as if to say, "Here's a gift for you, Mom. Thanks for being my Human. See what a great cat I am?" Nancy would wrap them in a paper towel and sneak them out to the garbage can (so she didn't hurt his feelings), then come back in, pet and praise him. He had a great purr wherein he would puff when he purred. I've never heard another cat purr that way. When the weather got cold or when Schlomo was tired of hunting, he would either come into the house to sleep or sleep out on the back porch on his chair with a blanket and pillow that had been left for him. When Nan took him to the vet to get all of his shots and get "fixed", he was all that they could handle; they guessed that he was about 2 yrs. old when Nan was adopted by him, so we listed his date of birth as the summer of 2003. My dear sister has had to suffer thru a number of back surgeries in her life and we finally decided that it was easier for her to stay with me in town than to live in her house where we heated with a wood stove, had lots more ice and snow in the winter, and it was further to doctors and hospitals. She moved in with me just before another back surgery in 2011, bringing both her kitties (Lydia and Schlomo) with her in mid-May, then going to the hospital for her surgery. Lydia dealt with it much better than Schlomo did. He went thru out the house, crying for his Mom, wanting to know what I had done with her. There was no comforting him, except to let him listen to her on the phone from the hospital. When she came home, he climbed up on her chest and stayed close to her for weeks. For a while he considered me the enemy as I was the person who took his person "away" for her surgeries and follow up appointments. I would try to placate him by giving him food or catnip, but I often ended up getting scratched or bitten for the 1st year he was living with me and my Shadow cat. He would also take out his frustration on my Shadow cat, bullying her when he was upset about his person being gone. He finally adjusted, however, realizing that Nan did come back each time and that I was the person who usually would get up at 3a.m. (yup, he wanted to be fed at 3a.m.!) to feed him as there was no getting around it -- he was going to eat at 3a.m., no matter what! [I finally began staying up until 3 a.m., sometimes, as I didn't want Nan having to get up at that time due to pain issues]. Schlomo also decided he wanted me to give him attention after Nan had gone to sleep at night and would climb on top of my paperwork next to my computer; every so often, he would dump my precariously stacked papers and files on the floor when he'd be moving around, attempting to get "more comfortable". I know he was actually trying to get my attention, wanting food and pets. He usually slept on top of Nancy at night, though, or whenever she was resting during the day. About a month to six weeks ago, he stopped eating as much as he did, normally, and his fur started looking kind of "rough" like it had when Nan had 1st been adopted by him, before she'd started feeding him his good, healthy cat food. He was acting kind of listless, not his own cantankerous self. Nancy took him to her Vet, a really great doctor in Gresham. Schlomo's kidneys were failing and there was nothing they could do to stop it. He could have dialysis every morning, but it was just a matter of time. He had already lost 5 lbs. in the past week or so since we'd noticed his change in health. He now began sleeping with me, as well, which bothered Shadow. Sometimes he'd sleep on my chest, other times he'd sleep at the foot of my bed. He liked to sleep right where I slept, though, then would fight me for the right to stay there [Nan would come in and move him so I could lie down]. Every day he would go to the Vet for an IV of fluids for the next week or so, but he went downhill all too quickly. On May 7th, when Nan took him to the Vet, she advised him that Schlomo had stopped eating completely. He was following Nancy everywhere around the house and coming to my bedroom to sleep with me. I'd told him that morning how much I loved him... and I was scared. Nan called me from the Vet, sobbing. Schlomo was gone. When she got home, I took her beloved kitty in the box from the car and our neighbor dug a hole in our backyard for Schlomo to be buried in. We then held each other and cried. The house seems so quiet, so empty. Lydia and Shadow keep looking for him, as do Nancy and I. It seems like I should see him on top of my files or on Nancy; I woke up the other morning, petting my pillow like it was Schlomo. I've told Nan about the Rainbow Bridge; we've agreed we can cry any time we feel a need to because we are in mourning for the loss of a beloved member of our family. Nan had Schlomo in her life for 8 years; he was in my life for about 5 years. I really miss him, silly kitty. He used to drink out of the faucet or toilet, as he knew the water was "fresh". He was a special guy, no doubt about it. I think he comes by to visit us sometimes; I know he waits for us at the Rainbow Bridge. See you again, some day, Schlomie.