A young man and woman walked into a pet store about fifteen and a half years ago. They were set to get married in a few months and the last thing they needed was an additional responsibility to add to their other “responsibility”, Nieve the cat. Nonetheless, they walked into a pet store to buy cat food, and came out with cat food and an orange tabby kitten.

Fifteen and a half years later, the grown up kitty who never let anyone forget who was boss, passed away in that young man and woman’s arms.

The young woman, myself, is no longer a young woman. Rather, a middle-aged woman. And the young man, my husband Tim, is fast approaching that same middle age. And Milo the Cat, that little kitten who caught our eyes so many years ago, made a permanent mark in our lives. Our lives were enriched because of him, and he has left a hole in our hearts that will never fill.

When we adopted Milo, then named “Tiger”, his foster Mom warned us that his name of Tiger was quite fitting. He had been found with his litter mates in a cardboard box on the side of a busy highway. They were rescued, and he was definitely the ringleader of kittens. The foster mom warned us that Milo had a furious meow that could sound frightening. She said he would cry bloody murder and she would rush over to him and find him calmly sitting, talking angrily to the other cats. That warning followed him as he grew with our family. Milo let us know when he did not like something, or even when he liked it but wanted to be angry.

When he met Riley the Pug, he stood outside the crate as Riley (then 12 weeks) curiously looked out. You could see Milo’s tail twitch and his eyes let us know he wasn’t pleased. But he sniffed Riley and then promptly turned around to ignore him. It took years, but Riley and Milo became friends and would sometimes cuddle together. Riley earned Milo’s love and Milo was immediately loved by Riley.

When “Life of Pi”, the fantastical story about a boy and a tiger, came out, Tim and I saw it in the theater. I wasn’t thrilled with the movie, especially due to the animals who were portrayed as being hurt. The movie stuck with me for days afterward, haunting me. That very weekend I tried to make the guest bed with Milo sitting on it. First I tried to “shoosh” him off to no avail. He was angry, meowed, and then settled in again. The second time, I tried to push him a bit and it set Milo off. For the next ten or so minutes, I had to give a wide berth to that bed as Milo was stalking me around it, just daring me to either get on the bed with him, or ask him again to get off the bed. Looking into his eyes, I felt like I was looking into the eyes of a tiger on a raft. Fierce, determined.

His ferocity was best on display whenever we took him to the vet. It typically took multiple people to hold him down or cover with towels. Milo wasn’t going to be messed with if could help it.

Most people who visited us avoided Milo. In fact, several people I consider “fearless” would bashfully call out when he entered the guest room and asked us to get Milo. He was fierce, but had a gentleness I’m never sure I can sufficiently describe.

For those who were the very luckiest people, there was a softer side to Milo. He had the world’s greatest, loudest purr. Just as we could look at him and make him angry, we could also say something in a tone he liked and he would just purr loudly back at us. He always wanted to be in the same room with us. He didn’t want to be held or cuddled. But he wanted to be near. He would perch himself on the tops of couches or chairs, just to be close. And at night, on the very best nights, he would lay next to my head and I would press my cheek against his soft fur. He would purr as we both fell asleep- content.

When Milo was four years old, my husband took Riley the Pug out-of-town for a night while I stayed home with the kitties. I clearly remember laying on my bed, and Milo climbing on top of me, purring, and falling asleep. We laid like that for hours- him resting and me barely breathing in fear he’d leave. He only ever cuddled with me like that twice in his life. And it was incredibly special because it wasn’t something he gave out freely.

Milo was the best friend to both my soul-kitty, Nieve, and also best friend to my soulmate, Tim. And for me, I just gave him love and hoped that deep down he loved me as much in return.

Milo Patrick Alexander, thank you for keeping us in line over the years. Thank you for keeping us humble. Thank you for keeping us warm. And thank you for the love you shared. You will always and forever be our My-Guy and a huge part of our family.