…he came into our family in 1995…a scraggly kitten who had been dumped with his mother on a country street. We were in the process of moving into our new home…and wouldn’t you know it, with three daughters, any wandering animal was a target for love and cuddling. So, although we swore we’d never fall victim to being softhearted, we agreed to take in Mama Cat (aka Fluffy) and her only surviving kitten, soon christened Gandolf the Grey. Gandolf survived a direct hit by a car, learning to live a full life on three legs and a lot of gumption. He was a champion mouser, and furball purrball machine who loved sneaking under the covers to cuddle, and was the personal pet of our middle daughter. Stubborn to the end, he insisted on spending his last day in the great outdoors, soaking in the fresh air, laying in the pasture, and generally being a pain in the butt. Doing it his way. I only hope I get the freedom to chose my way out, as he did. On his terms. RIP ole buddy.