The Talking Cat, by Kitty

A stroke of luck came Mama M's way: A man who had adopted a yellow-and-white Persian while in college 10 years before had just learned that his 4-year-old daughter was allergic to cats. He told a friend he was looking for a new home for the cat, and the friend told Mama M, and Grisslie became her love.

The love was mutual. Grisslie would even insist that Mama M go to bed when he was ready to occupy the other side. One night when his insistence began at 9 o'clock, Mama M asked him, "Two more hours? Please?" She swears Grisslie replied, "Two more hours." (Think about it: Those words could come out of meows.)

Whenever Mama M went out of town for more than 3 days, she would board Grisslie (and Masky) at the vet's. When she would pick them up, the receptionist always reported that Grisslie "talked" all the time. 

After picking him up after the last time he boarded, Mama M let Grissle out of the carrier as usual, but he hurried to lie on the foot of the bed, where he stayed, mewing. Mama M petted him, but he was not responsive. All of a sudden he let out a loud moan and leaped off the bed. 

Mama M called the vet and rushed Grisslie back. The vet found that Grisslie's bladder was blocked. He worked on the cat all night and called Mama M the next morning to say that he had gotten him unblocked but he was blocked again. "He needs surgery," the vet said.

"No," replied Mama M. "Not at age 19." The vet suggested Mama M come see Grisslie one last time; so she did. She stroked her love and spoke gently to him, then left him to be put to sleep.

It was a sad parting, but she and the loving cat had enjoyed each other for a good life.