Buddy was a Maine coon cat. He had twelve toes, and liked to eat mackerel and hang upside down. He had a secret life - hours on end of exploring in places where no one knew his name. Out of the house, he could be anyone he wanted. When he wandered over to the restaurant, they called him Sardine and threw him the scraps from yesterday's lobster roll. Sometimes, when he got sick of being Kitty, he ventured out for a rumble, escaping with a notch in his ear. He liked to be wild. Then he'd come home for a belly rub and fall asleep in a frying pan.
Fauxhawk's mama had to put Buddy down last Friday. He was old, old, old but looked soft and glossy and lithe until the end. He was a my favorite and I'll miss him. (Don't tell Verne and Roy.)
