If you have lost a pet of your own and would like a small memorial on the web send me a picture and a short story at :


I will get it posted as soon as I can. Pleases be sure to include your pets name, How long you had them, date of birth (if known), when you got them, and when they left you. 

All animals are welcome

Mr. Mistoffelees (aka Misty)
Born April 15, 92
Died Dec. 8, 97
Misty was the finest friend you could hope for. We will miss him forever and love him always.
Sharon & Pickles

January 1, 1990,
December 24, 1998.

Hobbes was a quiet cat. He never had to say much because his eyes did
all the talking. In recent days, Hobbes had seemed so sad, and I couldn't figure out why. He was eating, drinking his water, otherwise observing his daily routine, and yet...

Hobbes had to be with me every minute. He wanted to be held and
hugged and groomed, as though he just couldn't get close enough. This
was the cat who eight years earlier had been my birthday surprise, a gift from my teen-age son and a woman friend who found Hobbes at the Topeka Cat Association. I didn't want any kind of pet in the house. They smell bad, they shed, and they tear up the drapes, and cats are the worst of the bunch. But, it only took Hobbes about 10 seconds to capture my heart and he clutched it tightly ever since.

Hobbes awakened me at 2 a.m., yowling and hissing as though he'd
discovered an intruder. His pal, Stanley, was racing around the room,
very disturbed by the sounds. Hobbes was lying on the hallway floor, as he often did, but this time I knew we were in terrible trouble. His back
legs were limp. He'd struggle to get up, and then fall sideways.

I telephoned my son, and then called the vet. Mikkel drove while I cradled Hobbes as we headed across the city, chilled by fear but believing we could get help. When the vet examined Hobbes, and muttered an expletive, my heart began to ache. Hobbes had advanced heart disease, the vet said, and was throwing clots. I then remembered a mysterious incident 18 months earlier, when Hobbes had difficulty walking and the vet theorized that he'd chewed on a plant that didn't agree with him.

While there were marginal treatments, it was a matter of waiting for the
next clot to hit, the vet said, and the prognosis was very poor. There
would be pills and weekly blood tests and the potential that the back legs would have to be amputated. But, I could not inflict that future on my best buddy simply to spare myself awhile the pain of losing him.

The vet left Mikkel and me alone to comfort Hobbes, and each other. We
talked about the days and times we'd shared with Hobbes, times when our relationship was so strained that all we had in common -- that we could comfortably discuss -- was Hobbes The Cat...the bridge between our hearts. So, as Mikkel and I gently stroked his glossy orange coat, and looked into his trusting eyes, we told him what a good job he had done all these years taking care of kitty business and how important he was to us. I kissed his nose -- pink with three little black spots that had come with age -- and then we let him leave the pain and fear behind.

Hobbes had such dignity. He reminded me of Walter Cronkite.

Hobbes was very loving. And, while it's an odd thing to say about a cat,
Hobbes was dependable. He also was a little eccentric. A young friend who frequently came to spend a few days almost got used to the fact that no one could use the bathroom without Hobbes attending. "Why is it," he finally asked, "that Hobbes has to go to the bathroom with me, and then sits on my foot?" I have no idea.

I know that I will miss my best buddy a dozen times a day. He'd give me about 10 minutes to settle in my bed at night, and then he'd proceed to stroll across me to his spot where he'd curl up near my face so that I could hear his soft snore and feel his breath warm my skin. Sometimes, hed clean my eyebrows. I guess they needed it.

When I drive up and park in front of the apartment, he won't be sitting in the upstairs window watching for me. When I turn on my computer, I won't feel him brushing against my legs before leaping into my lap. I
wont have a dozen blank pages suddenly added to my project because
Hobbes rested his paw on the page down key.

Most of all, when I'm feeling sad, Hobbes won't creep up next to me on
the couch, stretching his right front paw up to gently pat my cheek, with
unmistakable concern shining from his eyes.

I miss him now.


A female cat, born in 1982 and died August 5th 1987

I still love you,miss you and it still hurts.But I
know that one day we'll meet again in Summerland.


(No Picture available)

Ally was born in 1981, she was a pure bred Arabian Horse. If my family did not buy her she was going to the slaughter house.  She was very sick, but she held on so that she could have her baby Kali.  Kali is now 3 months old, and her mother has been dead for 2 weeks. It was nessacary that we put her down she had a hernia and was full of tumors.



January 1990 - November 1999

What can one say to sum up his life? Almost ten years of being a friend, being there to rumble encouragement when we're down, and of course always being ready for that scratch behind the ear. We'll miss you, and remember you.

Paul, Frisky, and family


??? 1985 - December 4 2000

Mousy left this world last year on December 4 shortly after my birthday - and I still miss him so.  I have three other girl kitties, Amy Kiska and Star everyone misses Mousy very much even still.  He had a way of getting into everyone's heart - he loved to hug people and would reach out with his paws and touch people's faces.  In his last two years here, he had diabetes and I would give him shots twice a day - he was so good about this - such a gently soul that he is.  In fact one time I pricked myself with the needle by mistake and He cried and licked my face because he was worried that I was hurt. 

Mousy was here on earth for 15 years - and his eventual passing due to his illness was quick and gently for which I am eternally grateful.  I was so honored by his love and company and was able to hold him in my arms when it was time for him to journey onward. I hope that I have learned some of his gentleness and forgiveness - as I think he was teaching me.


(No Picture available)


April 4, 1999 - November 2, 2002

It is a really sad day for me not having my doxie, BamBam with me. I miss him so very much. I wish I could see him one more time. I love you and miss you. you will always be in my heart.

Allison Moore

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The music on this page is Lord Andrew lloyd Webber's 
"Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again."
from his play The Phantom of the Opera.