*On March 5, 2018 Reagan left The Rainbow Bridge and joined his daddy, my son, Adam, in heaven*
Died on his 18th birthday. Reagan was born to an orange tabby (father unknown). He was one of a litter of five, all black kittens. I figured that his orange mother was keeping with the orange and black theme of October. They all belonged to my neighbor who let me pick one shortly after they were born. I picked the smallest one, the runt of the litter. My neighbor would bring him over daily so that I could love him, until he was able to leave his mother.
The kids named him Reagan, reason unknown. I had learned early in motherhood not to try and make sense of things; it just complicates matters.
Reagan was the smartest and meanest cat I'd ever known. When he was a kitten my teenaged son and my daughter's boyfriend, Brian ,would tease him. They would pretend not to notice Reagan creeping up on them while they were sitting on the floor watching t.v.. Suddenly Reagan would pounce, going for an arm or leg and the boys would quickly move it, sending Reagan tumbling across the carpet. Reagan would get furious! He'd try again and again, his tail wagging so hard that his whole rump would be moving, making him look as though he were dancing. Yet he also enjoyed it, and even became 'my son's cat' eventually. He spent many years in my son's room watching t.v., listening to music, and sleeping (my son too).
Reagan would accompany any family member on a walk and always seemed to know what you were saying, hence the nickname, The Dog. If he was on the counter or a car, I would say,' Get down', and he would get down while saying,"MEW!". If he were in my chair and I wanted to sit down, I'd say, 'Reagan, you're in my chair'. He'd step off while saying,"MEW!". Once, a repairman came to the house while Reagan was outside. When I opened the screen for the repairman to enter, Reagan dashed in and trotted down the hall. 'Reagan!', I called, 'Get out!' Reagan abruptly stopped, turned and trotted out of the door, briefly pausing as he passed me to say,"MEW!". A surprised looking repairman said," Wow! I've never seen that before!". I never really knew what "MEW!" meant, but judging from the tone, I think it rhymed with witch.
Reagan loved to fight and feared nothing. The neighborhood learned to cross the street whenever they would walk their dog(s). Reagan has attacked Dobermans, Golden Retrievers, Shepards, and even a Great Dane. He was constantly going to the vet for infected animal bites and had several surgeries. One was to try and save his ear. He had taken on a raccoon. I think he won that one but he lost his left ear.
When his cat brother, Gandalf first joined us, Reagan enlisted his help to kick some dog butt. Gandalf went along for a couple of fights, but decided that he'd rather be a lover, not a fighter.
Reagan was born all black but when he grew up, his mane turned a red brown. When he got older, it turned gray. He had what I called glow-in-the-dark eyes. His eyes looked fluorescent green, especially surrounded by that black fur. Reagan liked Rally's seasoned French fries, spaghetti, corn, chocolate cake, and strawberry daiquiris (we discovered when one was spilled), but his weakness was gravy. Gravy of any kind. He loved licking the gravy out of the cat food and leaving the cat food for his cat sisters. He also liked to partake of some catnip now and then. Once, mommy gave him some then went off to the store. When she returned, she realized that she had left the full bag of catnip on the counter. Reagan had torn the bag opened, scattered it all over the room and had himself one heck of a party.
Reagan passed away from old age. He was getting weaker these last few months. His cat sister, Possum, started following him around and laying by him. She is taking his death hard. I finally got her to eat some today.
Reagan, we love you and miss you. We grew old together and welcomed four grandbabies. It just won't be the same.
This memorial is sponsored by my dear friend, Diana McDevitt Eyler
Died on his 18th birthday. Reagan was born to an orange tabby (father unknown). He was one of a litter of five, all black kittens. I figured that his orange mother was keeping with the orange and black theme of October. They all belonged to my neighbor who let me pick one shortly after they were born. I picked the smallest one, the runt of the litter. My neighbor would bring him over daily so that I could love him, until he was able to leave his mother.
The kids named him Reagan, reason unknown. I had learned early in motherhood not to try and make sense of things; it just complicates matters.
Reagan was the smartest and meanest cat I'd ever known. When he was a kitten my teenaged son and my daughter's boyfriend, Brian ,would tease him. They would pretend not to notice Reagan creeping up on them while they were sitting on the floor watching t.v.. Suddenly Reagan would pounce, going for an arm or leg and the boys would quickly move it, sending Reagan tumbling across the carpet. Reagan would get furious! He'd try again and again, his tail wagging so hard that his whole rump would be moving, making him look as though he were dancing. Yet he also enjoyed it, and even became 'my son's cat' eventually. He spent many years in my son's room watching t.v., listening to music, and sleeping (my son too).
Reagan would accompany any family member on a walk and always seemed to know what you were saying, hence the nickname, The Dog. If he was on the counter or a car, I would say,' Get down', and he would get down while saying,"MEW!". If he were in my chair and I wanted to sit down, I'd say, 'Reagan, you're in my chair'. He'd step off while saying,"MEW!". Once, a repairman came to the house while Reagan was outside. When I opened the screen for the repairman to enter, Reagan dashed in and trotted down the hall. 'Reagan!', I called, 'Get out!' Reagan abruptly stopped, turned and trotted out of the door, briefly pausing as he passed me to say,"MEW!". A surprised looking repairman said," Wow! I've never seen that before!". I never really knew what "MEW!" meant, but judging from the tone, I think it rhymed with witch.
Reagan loved to fight and feared nothing. The neighborhood learned to cross the street whenever they would walk their dog(s). Reagan has attacked Dobermans, Golden Retrievers, Shepards, and even a Great Dane. He was constantly going to the vet for infected animal bites and had several surgeries. One was to try and save his ear. He had taken on a raccoon. I think he won that one but he lost his left ear.
When his cat brother, Gandalf first joined us, Reagan enlisted his help to kick some dog butt. Gandalf went along for a couple of fights, but decided that he'd rather be a lover, not a fighter.
Reagan was born all black but when he grew up, his mane turned a red brown. When he got older, it turned gray. He had what I called glow-in-the-dark eyes. His eyes looked fluorescent green, especially surrounded by that black fur. Reagan liked Rally's seasoned French fries, spaghetti, corn, chocolate cake, and strawberry daiquiris (we discovered when one was spilled), but his weakness was gravy. Gravy of any kind. He loved licking the gravy out of the cat food and leaving the cat food for his cat sisters. He also liked to partake of some catnip now and then. Once, mommy gave him some then went off to the store. When she returned, she realized that she had left the full bag of catnip on the counter. Reagan had torn the bag opened, scattered it all over the room and had himself one heck of a party.
Reagan passed away from old age. He was getting weaker these last few months. His cat sister, Possum, started following him around and laying by him. She is taking his death hard. I finally got her to eat some today.
Reagan, we love you and miss you. We grew old together and welcomed four grandbabies. It just won't be the same.
This memorial is sponsored by my dear friend, Diana McDevitt Eyler
*On March 5, 2018 Reagan left The Rainbow Bridge and joined his daddy, my son, Adam, in heaven*
Died on his 18th birthday. Reagan was born to an orange tabby (father unknown). He was one of a litter of five, all black kittens. I figured that his orange mother was keeping with the orange and black theme of October. They all belonged to my neighbor who let me pick one shortly after they were born. I picked the smallest one, the runt of the litter. My neighbor would bring him over daily so that I could love him, until he was able to leave his mother.
The kids named him Reagan, reason unknown. I had learned early in motherhood not to try and make sense of things; it just complicates matters.
Reagan was the smartest and meanest cat I'd ever known. When he was a kitten my teenaged son and my daughter's boyfriend, Brian ,would tease him. They would pretend not to notice Reagan creeping up on them while they were sitting on the floor watching t.v.. Suddenly Reagan would pounce, going for an arm or leg and the boys would quickly move it, sending Reagan tumbling across the carpet. Reagan would get furious! He'd try again and again, his tail wagging so hard that his whole rump would be moving, making him look as though he were dancing. Yet he also enjoyed it, and even became 'my son's cat' eventually. He spent many years in my son's room watching t.v., listening to music, and sleeping (my son too).
Reagan would accompany any family member on a walk and always seemed to know what you were saying, hence the nickname, The Dog. If he was on the counter or a car, I would say,' Get down', and he would get down while saying,"MEW!". If he were in my chair and I wanted to sit down, I'd say, 'Reagan, you're in my chair'. He'd step off while saying,"MEW!". Once, a repairman came to the house while Reagan was outside. When I opened the screen for the repairman to enter, Reagan dashed in and trotted down the hall. 'Reagan!', I called, 'Get out!' Reagan abruptly stopped, turned and trotted out of the door, briefly pausing as he passed me to say,"MEW!". A surprised looking repairman said," Wow! I've never seen that before!". I never really knew what "MEW!" meant, but judging from the tone, I think it rhymed with witch.
Reagan loved to fight and feared nothing. The neighborhood learned to cross the street whenever they would walk their dog(s). Reagan has attacked Dobermans, Golden Retrievers, Shepards, and even a Great Dane. He was constantly going to the vet for infected animal bites and had several surgeries. One was to try and save his ear. He had taken on a raccoon. I think he won that one but he lost his left ear.
When his cat brother, Gandalf first joined us, Reagan enlisted his help to kick some dog butt. Gandalf went along for a couple of fights, but decided that he'd rather be a lover, not a fighter.
Reagan was born all black but when he grew up, his mane turned a red brown. When he got older, it turned gray. He had what I called glow-in-the-dark eyes. His eyes looked fluorescent green, especially surrounded by that black fur. Reagan liked Rally's seasoned French fries, spaghetti, corn, chocolate cake, and strawberry daiquiris (we discovered when one was spilled), but his weakness was gravy. Gravy of any kind. He loved licking the gravy out of the cat food and leaving the cat food for his cat sisters. He also liked to partake of some catnip now and then. Once, mommy gave him some then went off to the store. When she returned, she realized that she had left the full bag of catnip on the counter. Reagan had torn the bag opened, scattered it all over the room and had himself one heck of a party.
Reagan passed away from old age. He was getting weaker these last few months. His cat sister, Possum, started following him around and laying by him. She is taking his death hard. I finally got her to eat some today.
Reagan, we love you and miss you. We grew old together and welcomed four grandbabies. It just won't be the same.
This memorial is sponsored by my dear friend, Diana McDevitt Eyler
Died on his 18th birthday. Reagan was born to an orange tabby (father unknown). He was one of a litter of five, all black kittens. I figured that his orange mother was keeping with the orange and black theme of October. They all belonged to my neighbor who let me pick one shortly after they were born. I picked the smallest one, the runt of the litter. My neighbor would bring him over daily so that I could love him, until he was able to leave his mother.
The kids named him Reagan, reason unknown. I had learned early in motherhood not to try and make sense of things; it just complicates matters.
Reagan was the smartest and meanest cat I'd ever known. When he was a kitten my teenaged son and my daughter's boyfriend, Brian ,would tease him. They would pretend not to notice Reagan creeping up on them while they were sitting on the floor watching t.v.. Suddenly Reagan would pounce, going for an arm or leg and the boys would quickly move it, sending Reagan tumbling across the carpet. Reagan would get furious! He'd try again and again, his tail wagging so hard that his whole rump would be moving, making him look as though he were dancing. Yet he also enjoyed it, and even became 'my son's cat' eventually. He spent many years in my son's room watching t.v., listening to music, and sleeping (my son too).
Reagan would accompany any family member on a walk and always seemed to know what you were saying, hence the nickname, The Dog. If he was on the counter or a car, I would say,' Get down', and he would get down while saying,"MEW!". If he were in my chair and I wanted to sit down, I'd say, 'Reagan, you're in my chair'. He'd step off while saying,"MEW!". Once, a repairman came to the house while Reagan was outside. When I opened the screen for the repairman to enter, Reagan dashed in and trotted down the hall. 'Reagan!', I called, 'Get out!' Reagan abruptly stopped, turned and trotted out of the door, briefly pausing as he passed me to say,"MEW!". A surprised looking repairman said," Wow! I've never seen that before!". I never really knew what "MEW!" meant, but judging from the tone, I think it rhymed with witch.
Reagan loved to fight and feared nothing. The neighborhood learned to cross the street whenever they would walk their dog(s). Reagan has attacked Dobermans, Golden Retrievers, Shepards, and even a Great Dane. He was constantly going to the vet for infected animal bites and had several surgeries. One was to try and save his ear. He had taken on a raccoon. I think he won that one but he lost his left ear.
When his cat brother, Gandalf first joined us, Reagan enlisted his help to kick some dog butt. Gandalf went along for a couple of fights, but decided that he'd rather be a lover, not a fighter.
Reagan was born all black but when he grew up, his mane turned a red brown. When he got older, it turned gray. He had what I called glow-in-the-dark eyes. His eyes looked fluorescent green, especially surrounded by that black fur. Reagan liked Rally's seasoned French fries, spaghetti, corn, chocolate cake, and strawberry daiquiris (we discovered when one was spilled), but his weakness was gravy. Gravy of any kind. He loved licking the gravy out of the cat food and leaving the cat food for his cat sisters. He also liked to partake of some catnip now and then. Once, mommy gave him some then went off to the store. When she returned, she realized that she had left the full bag of catnip on the counter. Reagan had torn the bag opened, scattered it all over the room and had himself one heck of a party.
Reagan passed away from old age. He was getting weaker these last few months. His cat sister, Possum, started following him around and laying by him. She is taking his death hard. I finally got her to eat some today.
Reagan, we love you and miss you. We grew old together and welcomed four grandbabies. It just won't be the same.
This memorial is sponsored by my dear friend, Diana McDevitt Eyler
