Saying good-bye to an old friend.

My childhood cat, Abby, died on Sunday. The Morstadt family adopted her in 1991, shortly after we moved to Michigan. My brother, Alex, picked her out at the Humane Society. She was brought home and quickly sent to do what cats do best....kill mice. Our rental house in Michigan was sort of infested with them....and the mice weren't going to be allowed to stay. Fortunately, Abby was a great mouser!

She lived in the basement of our house on Redbird for many years, and after a while was joined by the small and spunkier Sophie. After a while, both cats were moved outside where they slept in the garage by day and had the run of the neighborhood at night. I think Abby enjoyed living outdoors best. During her prime kitty years, she would venture out and we wouldn't see her for days. Sometimes she would leave a little dead present at the door, just to show us that she was still a good hunter. At the end of her life she spent more and more time in her bed: a converted kennel with no door and a Rainbow Brite sleeping bag as her bedding -but she would always come out and "talk" with you if you called her.

Now she's gone. Alex said it best last night: that you lose a part of your childhood with the passing of a family pet. Looking back at Abby's long life really sheds light on how much time has passed and how different our family is now.

The babies who crawled around the floor of the home she kept free of mice, come home from a movie to find her body in the garage and then quietly and respectfully bury her, like real men would.

The kindergartner who picked her out, calls from Navy flight school to reminisce.

The 10 year-old who forced her to cuddle (knowing Abby wouldn't hiss or bite to be released), blogs about her hunting prowess during breaks from lab work.

Abby was a good cat. She was never a snuggler, but always excepted gentle petting and a good scratch behind her ears. Our whole family will miss you, Abby (and I think Sophie might too). RIP.