15 years. That’s how old Mac was when he died last Friday.
Bad luck on Friday the 13th? No, all that knew him know that he went to heaven; this was his lucky day.
He lived a happy life. Loyal and loving. Tolerant and tough. Smiley and snuggly.
He was my cat; my dog with 9 lives.
He was my baby; from infant to elderly, my kid.
He was my friend; my companion through the best and the worst.
There’s no one to step on when I turn around, there’s no one wanting to play fetch, there’s no one using the water bowl on my bed. There’s no one to clean-up the spills from the table, there’s no one wagging his tail when I come home, there’s no one sleeping under my covers.
Being human, it’s hard to say goodbye, but it was his time. It was peaceful. He was and is lucky.
julieabbymac 