G-MAN was 17 years old, a California Cat. He came to me on a rain blown stormy night. I thought I was hearing something, opened the back door, he was there, crying bigger than the little kitten he was, soaking wet and small enough to fit in a coffe cup. I fed him some tuna... he never left. They say cats pick their owners, he chose me.
He was a tough guy, but finally had to be put down due to Feline Aids. He traveled to Maryland with me in 2001 and kept watch over the property. Cats, dogs, foxes and racoons never bothered him, he did have to get stitched up a few times.
He befriended Little Kitty,
a ferrel cat I saved. She had a great litter and I kept the runt of the group, Little "G". Little Kitty loved the G-Man, she will have to get by without him, he always watched over her. He was a lucky guy.
It was a perfect Fall morning, and for G-Man it was a good day to die. He turned for the worst yesterday, so I took him to see Doctor Giles and we put him down peacefully.
He was always waiting in the driveway when I came home. Cats have nine lives and he lived all of his. Someday I believe, I will see him again, he was a good friend.
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