Maynard was my dear little boy for almost twelve years. He was a grey and white medium-hair mix breed cat who wandered into my life as a stray kitten, and became my special little pal. I named him after Maynard G. Krebs in the "Dobie Gillis" television series of the early 1960's. He had a little dark mark on his chin that looked like a goatee. He was sort of scruffy, and not too bright, but very sweet and lovable. Maynard was the companion of my solitary hours, and was always happy to see me when I returned home from work. He had such a sweet little pansy face, one couldn't help but love him. Shortly before his twelfth birthday, he became seriously ill, and the vet said that Maynard's kidneys had completely shut down. He had no chance of getting well, and so, sadly, I had him put to sleep. There in the examining room I hugged him for the last time, and said goodbye to my dear friend. Then the doctor gave Maynard the needle, and in a minute it was all over. I had Maynard cremated, and his grave and marker are at the edge of my patio to this day.
About a year later, I adopted a three month old black and white female medium hair kitten, whom I named Clarissa. She and I took to each other immediately, almost as if we, in some way, had known one another for a long time. As she grew into a beautiful lady cat, Clarissa showed a remarkable similarity to Maynard in temperament, and even some of her mannerisms were almost Maynardisms. Clarissa is now six years old, and she is as special to me as Maynard was. I firmly believe in reincarnation, and I sometimes look into Clarissa's dear face and ask "Are you Maynard come back to me?" She just looks at me very sweetly and knowingly, as if to say, "Could be...."