My sweet Don Bosco died last night
He was my cat even though he hadn't lived with me for 16 years. (It's complicated.) One day when I was living in Richmond I went grocery shopping, and when I returned I found this handsome tabby and white kitten, about half grown, sitting on my stoop. I opened my door and he walked in, explored, then sat down in the kitchen like he owned the place. I'd always had cats, so I figured that was his signal that he wished to stay. I opened the door, but he didn't leave, so I went out and purchased a litter box and some food and dishes. Once I had determined he was a young gentleman kitty, I named him Don Bosco after the patron saint of street kids, and the following week I took him for vaccinations and the necessary surgery he would have to have if he was going to live in my house. I notified the apartment manager and uncomplainingly paid the increased rent. He was a delightful companion who ate like a horse, played like a puppy(in his defense, he did seem to be largely Maine Coon), cuddled aggressively, and loved a laser pointer, jumping 3-4 feet off the ground in pursuit of it. He got to be very big and quite furry, and adamantly did not like to be brushed. I learned that he would tolerate about 5 minutes of it before turning around to swat at either the brush or me, so I would brush him in small increments.
Unfortunately, my now-husband, who was courting me seriously at the time, turned out to be seriously allergic to The Don, and would break out in sneezing fits when he came to see me. I would shut The Don in another room but it did no good, and I figured I would have to re-home him, which broke my heart. A friend who lived on Staten Island volunteered to take him but was unsure how he would get along with his own two cats; he actually flew down to meet him and they liked each other a lot. Then another friend who lived much closer said she would take him. She has always had a lot of cats and figured, what was another one/ The Don would bring her to 6 as she had recently lost one. She met him and it was love at first sight. Took him home and he found a buddy with her big orange cat Sunshine. She sent me updates on him and considered herself his foster mom. He grew to be a monster 22 lbs until the vet advised her to trim him back and he became a svelte 19. Yesterday she found him crouched by the baseboard heater, shivering. She took him to the vet, who said his kidney values were very low. He died during the night. They think he may have thrown an embolus. We think he was around 17, which is a good age for a cat. See you at the Bridge, Don Bosco! 
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Thank you, Susan, for the pictures.
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Don Bosco sounds like a great one. He’ll be meeting new friends at the Rainbow Bridge.
I really enjoyed the picture of him sitting with his paws crossed. Two of our now-departed cats, a brother and sister, used to sit like that. It looks very regal.
