Munsford, May Heaven be Filled with Tuna

His real name was Midnight. He was our neighbor's cat - my husband nicknamed him and for us it stuck.

When he was a youngster he always seemed to have been in a scrape. We wondered how big the dog was he decided to pick a fight with. Or was it a fellow cat? Since he had run of the neighborhood, we really had no idea. He's just show up on our doorstep with a new bruise or tuft of fur missing.

He loved humans. He would greet us whenever we stepped outside the door. Once he came trotting to us from across the street to say hello. He'd do a little jump whenever we reached down to pet him - he just couldn't wait those last few inches for a head rub. He loved to be picked up - any old awkward hold was just fine with him.

After some initial rivalry, our cat Chester would sit inside the screen door and look out at the world with Munsford, who would sit outside on the porch.

He never missed an opportunity to beg for treats. My husband usually got them for him and would sing a little "treat song" while Munsford waited.

We didn't flatter ourselves that he had chosen us especially - he had more than one home away from home. Sometimes he would go missing for weeks, only to turn up as if nothing had happened. "Lord, I was born a rambling ... " cat.

I learned tonight that he had to be put to sleep. He was getting old and his health was too far gone for anything else to be done.

Munsford, you are missed.