Skyler was a very cute and cuddly stray Tom cat that I discovered on a local college campus and adopted on the spot. A typical neutered male cat, his passions were eating, sleeping and occasionally roughhousing a bit with other cats and humans. This little couch potato was especially resourceful when it came to food and once opened all the packets of an entire box of Tender Vittles when left to his own devices overnight. For some odd reason Skyler developed an extreme aversion to an avocado plant I was trying desperately to grow and, after several tries, he managed to murder it one day while I was at work. Skyler moved to the burbs in 1983 and, tragically, like the true streetwise urbanite that he was, the transplant was not a success. Skyler was the victim of a hit and run driver with a race driver complex in the summer of 1984. Every morning when he was ready for breakfast, Skyler would always walk back and forth between my pillow and the headboard until I finally gave up and fed him. Not long after he died, I felt those same familiar little feet walking on the bed as if to say goodbye – or, as I like to think of it, goodbye for now.
Skyler was a very cute and cuddly stray Tom cat that I discovered on a local college campus and adopted on the spot. A typical neutered male cat, his passions were eating, sleeping and occasionally roughhousing a bit with other cats and humans. This little couch potato was especially resourceful when it came to food and once opened all the packets of an entire box of Tender Vittles when left to his own devices overnight. For some odd reason Skyler developed an extreme aversion to an avocado plant I was trying desperately to grow and, after several tries, he managed to murder it one day while I was at work. Skyler moved to the burbs in 1983 and, tragically, like the true streetwise urbanite that he was, the transplant was not a success. Skyler was the victim of a hit and run driver with a race driver complex in the summer of 1984. Every morning when he was ready for breakfast, Skyler would always walk back and forth between my pillow and the headboard until I finally gave up and fed him. Not long after he died, I felt those same familiar little feet walking on the bed as if to say goodbye – or, as I like to think of it, goodbye for now.
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