Elvis. When Elvis came into my life, him and his brother Milo. Were nothing but a problem in my family. When they came from the farm, we had discovered that Elvis had earmites, and we had to pay alot to get them out by a vet. Then after that we discovered a pooping problem, since him and his brother were both males, they fought for territory, by marking it with there, well you know, poop and pee. I remember around Christmas time, dad told me that they would have to be given to a shelter. I cried, because this shelter killed there animals if the animal was not sold in a certain amount of days.
After Christmas. My father decided they could stay. Only a few months later. Milo was very sick, his eyes were almost bleached white, he wouldn't eat or drink, even after we tried to force feed him. After a week or so, he passed away, leaving Elvis all on his very own. For some months after, Elvis would wonder around the house, calling for Milo. But he... never came. Elvis loved his brother so much, Elvis refused to eat or drink, by then I had gave up hope, Elvis was going to die the same way. I knew it. As I cuddled him one night, I told him to not die. The next morning, he was better. I thanked God for this miracle. A couple months later, I saw Elvis laying on the couch, I went over to him and stroked his tail. He immediatley attacked me and clawed my face. Leaving a big scar across my cheecks. Every once in a while I still feel my cheecks, to remember him. These were the scars that I never wanted to go away. Mother took him to the vet to discover that he had been bitten in the but by some rabie-infected animal. Luckily we still had our health insurance, and we payed the money, to get him better. This is the second time Elvis came home with a cone on his head. Looking as goofy as always. Elvis was known to be a stupid cat. He chased his tail, he fell off the deck, and starting grooming himself, you could suck up part of his tail in the vacumm cleaner hose, and he would just sit there. But we all knew Elvis was street-smart. And that is excactley the kind of cat we needed.
One horrible day, It was June 26th I recall. I went off to my play practice, I had a ball, after all the play was the next day, and I was excited because I had a pretty good part. I came home. I waited for my parents to get home from work. My mother came home first. She told me that she had some bad news. I recall thinking that maybe she lost her job, or my dad had broken his leg, but she told me that my precious little baby. Was... ranover. I ran outside to get air. Boy, it sure did seem stuffy inside.
I went through my head, I kept telling myself he couldn't be dead. But... but.... he was.. to this day I still cry, and it's almost been one year.
I couldn't believe my little furbaby had
....... slipped away.