Bob

There is a tragic end to all living things: They stop living. Our Maine Coon “Kitty” of 14 years stopped living last week. Her name was “Bob” and one of the sweetest animals that anyone could have had. I don’t think she minded having a boy’s name, at least she never mentioned it.

We brought her home one afternoon after visiting our 3rd cat show in as many months and asked the inevitable question – what shall we name her? Struggling for an appropriate label for a brown and black cat that to be honest looked more like a dog, and having just seen the Richard Dreyfuss and Bill Murray comedy of the same name the night before, I said “What about Bob?” We all laughed, but it stuck. She was Bob.