Elliott was my life. He was my 17 year old long-haired orange tabby cat. He followed me everywhere I went and every night he slept on my head. My mom told me he had thyroid problems, and that was why he was so sick. He began eating less and less and went from 17 pounds to 4 pounds. I kept asking my mom what was wrong with him, but she said it was just thyroids. One December 9, 1998 I saw a little gray kitten while we were doing our normal rounds to Petsmart for animal food. I really liked the kitten and I wanted it, but my parents said no. I came home to my sick cat and loved on him some. The next day my mom came to school early and picked me up. I asked her why she was picking me up early since I didn't have a doctor's appointment or anything and she said "Sarah, Elliott is dying." I burst into tears. One of my friends saw me walking down the hall sobbing and asked me what was wrong and I couldn't even speak. My mom told her my cat was dying. I had known my cat was dying, but it was all too soon. I had only had him for 4 years, even though he was 17 years old. We went to the vets office and they took us into a room. They brought Elliott in wrapped in a towel from my house. He was crying in short meows, not his usual prolonged meows. I asked them if I could hold him and they said it was ok (a scist had erupted and torn a hole in his side). When they picked him up he kept crying. They handed to my mom and he wouldn't stop crying, so my mom handed him to me and he stopped crying. His eyes were dull and it was obvious he was in pain. After thirty minutes of holding him and telling him how much I loved him I couldn't stand to see him in pain. So they put him on the table and shaved his long beautiful fur off of his leg. I put him hand over his chest and within a minute of them giving him the shot, I felt his heart beat hard one last time and watched him take in his last breath and close his eyes. We had him cremated and I chose the box that I wanted his ashes put in. It was a chestnut color and had a space where you could put a picture. I put the fur they had shaved off in a kleenex and took it home to put in my box of most prized possessions. I took off his collar and gave him one last kiss, then I took my last look at him and we left. My aunt and uncles were flying in that day to visit my mom for her birthday. My aunt's husband had died and the cat had become ours. My aunt wanted half of Elliott's ashes, the cat who she had always hated. This made me very upset and I cried the whole night. We didn't let my Aunt have any of the ashes. Five days later we went searching for the little gray kitten I had seen the night before Elliott died. We went all over town to about 7 different places before finally finding it. We had filled out the papers to adopt it when I looked over and a little orange tabby cat, that looked just like Elliott stood up. The first thing I said was "Mom, its Elliott." We went over and took the kitten out and told the man who was helping us fill out the adopting papers that we wanted "baby." They told us that the cat wasn't neutered and they would neuter him that night and we could pick him up the next day. So after school we went to take the kitten home. They said they had made a mistake and that he was neutered, but that he had a cold and that they had brought the gray kitten and we could take it instead. We said that we wanted the orange tabby, and so we went home with him. I named the kitten Ezra because my mom wouldn't let me name him Elliott, she said it would be hard for me because of the pain I was feeling. We hadn't asked my dad if we could get a cat, so imagine his suprise when my mom told him. He wouldn't even look at Ezra. I put Ezra by my dad and he walked onto my dad's shoulder and fell asleep. It was then that my dad was ok with Ezra (even though he wouldn't admit it). The first night Ezra slept with me, he slept on my head just like Elliott had done. He had the same number 8 marking on his head and the same color and patterns as Elliott. He has the same personality, also. In life I loved Elliott, but in death I love him still. Everyday I see more and more of Elliott in Ezra. Whenever I think of Elliott, I don't think of how much I miss him, I think of all the great times we had together. It is definitly better to have loved and lost then to have never have loved at all.