Loss Stirs Memories Of Beloved Pets

I’ve got dogs, cats and a possum in mind: Pete, George, Minou and now Ellie. The possum was nameless, as were the other small critters that my brother and I interred in our little pet cemetery in the field across the street, by the creek where we caught crawdads and got leeches. (You burn ’em with a match and they let go.) We cared for the possum as best we could but it was dead in a day. Ellie, our eldest cat, died on Jan. 14, about 9 in the morning, after only a couple of hours of – I’m guessing – a stroke-induced fugue where she staggered around the basement, finally settling on a rug in the corner to wait for her last breath. She was a ripe old 17 (85 in people years), and well-loved despite being a cantankerous, grumpy gal most of her life. But she had presence, and over the past year or so took to just yowling, for who knows what reason, in the middle of the night. So now we sleep better, but the house is too quiet /Donald Clegg , SR. More here.

Question: Do you remember the names and passings of all your pets?