We had Moush with us for almost 18 years. When we had to put him to sleep, it was losing a part of myself.
Moush adopted me when he was just a tiny little kitten. At first I thought he belonged to someone in the neighborhood because he was so well taken care of; however, it turned out that he was lost (I never did find out who lost him) so he decided I would make him a good Mom and he convinced me to let him move in with us. At first he would purr only for me and he followed me around like he was my little shadow. However, he settled right in and even allowed us to stay there too. Prior to that I never would have even considered having a cat as a pet. Now, I'll have nothing else.
He would come when I whistled for him; he loved to sleep on either my or my husband's lap, he just needed to have an afghan under him; and at night, he would try to snuggle one or both of us right out of bed.
His name came from the markings on his face, he looked like he had a little moustache right under his nose.
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We lost Moush in 1994. I still miss him and expect to see him come trotting into the room where I am, expecting me to stop what I'm doing and sit down so he can snuggle on my lap. I know he's waiting for me at The Rainbow Bridge.
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