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| Name: |
Milton
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Age: |
Deceased, fifteen years old
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| Gender: |
Male
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Kind: |
Maine Coon
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| Home: |
Sarasota, Florida, USA
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What made my pet special to me is exactly what you see in this picture. He was the best cat you could ever have. No, I admit, he didn't do any special little tricks like setting off an alarm clock, or bouncing off walls, but he was special to me because he was gorgous. At first in life, I only liked him because he was a pretty cat, but little did I know about his sweet and loving personality. My parents got him right before I was born so when I saw him I didn't know what he was. Of course. But when I got around three years old, I would not let him go. I would pull him every where. We were inseprible! The dinamic douo, the amazing amigos, the double trouble! I loved that cat like my best friend.
When he got up to around ten years old he came home with a bent up ear. My mom rushed him to his vet to get him stitches. That is why in the picture his ear is bent (if you were wondering). He was fine. Two years after that, we suffered a pet loss. Our 13-year-old Rotty died. His name was Decerd. Although I knew that Milton missed our dog at heart, he showed no signs of depression. We grew even more closer together then. He was the king of the jungle ... so he thought. Like clockwork, every night before I went to bed, Milton would be there, ready to fall fast asleep on the pillow next to me. When Milton was around 11 years old, he was diagnosed with feline diabetes. But three years later we got a dog named Basquiat (pronounced like Basket). Basquiat quickly found out to stay out of Milton's way, after all, Milton was still king of the jungle.
As he got older, Milton's health started to go down. Every month we had to take him in for shots for his allergys, it got hard for him to breathe. I knew he would die soon. When Milton was 15 years old, he must have died. We didn't have him put to sleep, and he wasn't in an accident - he went missing one day, and after about three days, I knew. My Milton was like an Indian, he went to go off on his last hunt and never come back, like the brave Indians my father told me about when I was a child. My Brave Little Indian, my Milton.
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