Last night, my heart was broken when my cat died. He was 18 years old. When I was little, he never tried to hurt me when I pulled his tail, pulled his whiskers, or pulled his ears. I would feed him four times a day, literally! I will always miss that sweet, loud meow in the morning when I wake up. My dad buried him this morning in the rain just like he did with my other cat who died a year and a half ago last May. My cat who died last night was named Hootie and the other cat's name was Tilton. My mom got them from a friend whose cat had kittens under a house and Hootie and Tilton were "Litter Brothers." Anyway, thanks for reading my story!
Love,
PuppyLover18
