Over 17 years ago, we got Sugar Ray from a Burmese breeder off  Rte. 128. It was a house full of happy cats and kittens who climbed all over you and purred madly. When we got him home, he was grumpy. He wandered around disconsolate, making a grunting noise. Where are all my friends? Where’s Mama? Where’s my aunties? I almost named him Groucho. However, he settled in rapidly. He fell in love with me and remained so for years, to the point where Woody called him my cat husband. He grew into a stocky medium sized cat with dark brown fur, lustrous, satiny. He was content to be an indoor cat, being a natural pacifist. In all the years of his life, he never hunted or killed so much as a fly or moth, living surrounded by several serious hunters. He was always the first cat to welcome a kitten, even though he was seriously bullied in his childhood by our Siamese Efi – until he grew big enough to warn her off. He never fought with anyone. He was special pals with our late Abby Puck and mentored him until Puck became top cat. Sugar never wanted to be top cat. He was always content to live and let live. He had the sweetest, most affectionate disposition of any cat I’ve ever had. Every night he slept pressed to my side – until about nine months ago. Some five years ago I had a gall bladder operation and Cape Cod hospital kicked me out into the February parking lot bleeding and I came home in heavy pain. Sugar Ray examined my wound and then stood guard keeping the other cats away until I was healed. He was always the first to greet us at the door when we returned from an evening out, but if we had gone on an extended trip, he would not come to us until I had climbed into bed and he was sure we were staying. When we got another Burmese kitten, Mingus [they were second cousins, related in the female line] he took to him from the moment we brought him into the house. They have remained close and even in his last illness, Mingus washes him since Sugar can no longer clean himself – a sad thing for a cat who has always been fastidious. He has always been an elegant and charming gentleman. When kittens came into the house, they always understood very quickly that he was safe. Xena, who had been a street kitten, cuddled up to him immediately, which he accepted. By the time he was 14, he became hyperthyroid. Since he was healthy, we went the route of having the radiation procedure. That restored him to full health and he was very lively and playful. He and Mingus would play chase and stalk and pounce –until the last year when kidney disease began to destroy him. In the last three months, his kidney disease has progressed rapidly and dementia has set in. He eliminates wherever he is, bigger puddles every day. He no longer sleeps with me since he began peeing in the bed during the night. He knows Woody and me and is still very happy while sitting on us, but he has forgotten his sitter who has been coming to feed and play with the cats ever since before he was born and my previous assistant Melenie whom he always liked and hung out with. He howls during the day and at night, completely disoriented and lost. He only goes into two rooms of the house. He sleeps almost all the time. He starts to do something and then forgets where he is. He coughs a great deal. I spoke with the vet. She felt it was time for immediate euthanasia but I put it off. It’s hard to let go of him, but there’s not a lot of him left now. Still I lay awake for two nights, unable to come to the decision. I will miss him terribly, but I realize it is self indulgent to keep him alive in the condition he’s in. This is a very sad time for Woody and for me. He was an almost perfect feline companion.