Snoopy Cowan: 1990-2006

My family got a little smaller today.

My dear cat, while on the surgery table, finally succumbed to cancer. Snoopy was 16 years old, and judging from the constant purr, he was the happiest cat in history. Nathalie and I had adopted him from the pound near Jamaicaway in Boston when Snoopy was only 3 or 4 weeks old, and we were still in school--playful companions for a feisty kitten. Back then Snoopy would scamper up our pants, and he always loved--even as recently as yesterday--to be picked up, mussed up, tummy-rubbed, and slid across the smooth wood floor (he always sauntered back for more). He had a gait that reminded everyone of John Wayne.

Snoopy moved with us 9 times during his life, and each time he settled in immediately, content to call it home so long as we were there. In 16 years, Snoopy cried only if the bedroom doors were closed, since his favorite place to sleep was our bed and then, in recent years, our children's beds. Surprisingly, he let the kids pull his tail and chase him around. Occasionally he brought us tributes from his expeditions (moles, birds, cicadas, mice) but he tried not to hurt them. Considerately, he never brought us fleas or ticks.

My family recalled these happy times today as we buried Snoopy beneath a freshly planted fruit tree.

If you have a feline friend at home, please give her a little extra tuna, in memory of Snoopy. If you don't have a cat (and you're not allergic) go straight to the local chapter of your ASPCA and rescue one. You'll thank me later!