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My friend Kristin had someone tell her once “when I die, I want to come back as one of your pets because they live such spoiled lives.” Isn’t that what we as responsible pet humans are supposed to do? Treat our pets as members of the family, because that’s what they are.

Well, in my house, my pets are my children. I opted out of breeding more humans because the planet is full enough without me adding any more. But today, sadly, my household became one member smaller. Eliot (or Monster or Smelliot) was 14 and had stomach cancer (arthritis and a thyroid issue it turns out as well, but he never complained, so who knew). He put up a good fight, brave little monster to the end. But this morning, he woke up and said he had had enough.

Cross-eyed and bow legged he was adopted as a foster kitten from the local emergency vet clinic. Poor neglected middle child for most of his life, but loved his little sister Coe. When Peitre (big fat orange ruler of the roost) moved on, Eliot’s purr-sonality shone through and became quite a lover and a talker.

My awesome, supportive friends helped me celebrate his life. So here in a small pictorial, I celebrate with you.

I raise my margarita to my monster and the good long life he lived…

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