When I was in high school my black cat Dexter passed away from feline leukemia. He was only 2 years old. I was devastated because he was my best and only friend I really had at the time. I was also guilty because the night before i kicked him off my bed because he was snoring and keeping me awake.

A few weeks later my sister brought home this tiny raggedy 5 wk old orange kitten and handed him to me, said his name was Thomas O'Malley, and that he was my early birthday gift. He was cute, but I didn't want a replacement cat. I remember my mom quietly saying we didn't need another cat in the house but making no other comment or demand to get rid of him.

My mom found a big cardboard box by the dumpster and I set up his bowls and litterpan in it that night. I put a towel in the corner for him to curl up on. He fell asleep pretty quickly so I got ready for bed. For the next three nights I slept very little because I had learned that Thomas had the lungs of O'Malley the alley cat. He yowled on end until comforted to sleep. One night my mom even took him into her room while I was sleeping. It was so quiet for so long that I woke up in a panic because he wasn't in the box and I couldn't find him. She just wanted to let me get some sleep. It was like having a damn toddler.

The fourth night I caved as soon as he started yowling and tucked him in bed with me. Under my blanket under my arm. He went quiet, still, and fell asleep. He stayed there the whole night. And the next. And if he didn't sleep under the covers he slept as close to me as possible, because I move around alot when I sleep.

The months went by and he grew fast. He loved to play fetch especially. If I messed up a drawing or writing I would crumple the paper and no matter where he was in the house he would be at my feet staring at the wad of paper in my hand, just waiting for me to throw it. It was a 50/50 chance he'd bring it back, or chew it to pieces.

One of his other favorite hobbies was waiting for people to walk by the kitchen table so he could shoot out from underneath it and attack your toes. He meant it in fun but he almost always drew blood. And he HATED my sister. Absolutely hated her. As soon as she came close to him he would hiss and growl, and she always antagonized him. I always wonder why he hated her so much.

He took to a leash and harness with a willingness to walk and explore with me. I took him many places with me. Parks, road trips, SCA events(my lil war critter), even to a local subway a few times. They had a wonderful patio with umbrella tables and they reconised me the next time I came by so they came out to take my order. It was pretty amazing and he absolutely loved the attention from people.

One of my favorite things was how fondly he greeted me. He would stand against my leg and nuzzle it until I'd pet him, or if he was on level ground with my face he'd stand on my shoulders and nuzzle my face and neck. He was incredibly affectionate. But he was always full of surprises and humor. He Loved to hide in paper bags and cupboards. Would even sleep in the hall closet on top of the spare blankets. He had no problems moving everything out of the way to lay in the either. He constantly talked to us, mostly in the form of long drawn out obnoxious yowls of demanding. He demanded your attention and love and it was never allowed to be wasted on another cat because he was definitely more important. You could be calmly petting him and he'd decide that's enough and turn and bite you angrily as if it's your fault. Then yowl at you that you stopped petting him, staring at you like he was the most innocent creature on the planet earth. Hed rub on you as if cozying up to apologize for biting you. Calling him a greedy suckup is definitely putting it too kindly.

We couldn't seem to break the peeing in the corners of the house, or on anything that belonged to my boyfriend at the time.... When I joined the military I left him with my mom and I remember seeing him almost a year later and he just beamed with joy, just the same spunky kitten he'd always been. I got married and rented a house and was finally able to bring him home with me. He loved the ability to be outside without a leash, loved being able to explore freely.

When we bought the next house he loved being outside with me while I worked with my rabbits (And I was tired of him peeing on everything) that I finally fully enclosed my rabbit barn for him to have free roam. He greeted me loudly every morning as I came out to do my daily chores. And repeatedly if his bowl was out of food.

When the rabbit barn collapsed in the middle of the night we moved everyone into the garage until we could fix it. For a few months we had nearly the same routine of greeting each other every day when I did my chores. One evening, after having a busy morning and getting to chores late, I wasn't greeted by him. His life partner Taylor greeted me at the door instead. I knew instantly that something was wrong. He passed later than night from antifreeze poisoning, his mate Taylor narrowly avoided the same fate but remains in stage 4 kidney today.

I know the end of this story becomes less passionate, and I won't apologize for that, I will explain why. Thomas and I were together almost 11 years when I found him dying from poisoning symptoms. It's been 18 months since he passed and the images of what he went through before we put him down are painful. I miss my grumpy man.

Thomas O'Malley, March 31 2006 to March 30 2017