"He has a tumor," the veterinarian said, pulling back his lips to show me. I put on my reading glasses for a closer look. There was the ugly thing on the right side of his mouth; pale pink and zigzagged with blood vessels. And it was big. The vet took a swab and pulled it out covered with blood.

"Unfortunately," he said, looking me directly in the eyes, "There's very little chance for a positive outcome. We have the option of surgery, but honestly, these tumors are very aggressive and chances are it will grow back. Plus, it's also on his tongue and we can't remove his tongue. That's how they eat and drink."

"Or he can be euthanized."

This was not what I expected to hear. I thought he had an abscessed tooth. But I wasn't really sure. I never could get him to open his mouth up wide enough for inspection. I tried, with my roommate Lucy helping me. But Felix wasn't having it. We did, however, get a whiff of his sewer-like breath. His right cheek was swollen and he was drooling.

But I didn't think these symptoms added up to cancer.

I decided that, for the time being, to let him be. Surgery was out of the question. I couldn't put him through it, especially if the prognosis was so poor. The vet said it would just grow back. Felix had a lot of life left in him. Even the vet agreed.

He did prescribe an antibiotic that might help with the swelling and take care of any infection. He also gave Felix a shot of Vitamin B. He said to feed him canned food.

"He's going to love that prescription," I said.

It was October 9, 2006.

***

Flash back to August 1995. I was driving south on Illinois 51 to Heyworth. It was late evening and not too hot. I drove with the air conditioning off and the windows down.

I had seen a posting at a pet store for free kittens. I called right away and arranged to pick one out. The older woman who answered the phone had a whole litter for adoption.

I followed her directions to a farm west of Heyworth. It was a handsome farm with several brown buildings and big, mature trees. The house main house was a split-level ranch that looked incongruous in a rural setting. Off to one side was a cottage the same color as the house.

I rang the doorbell to the main house and stood there like a fool for several minutes until an elderly lady appeared from the cottage and invited me in. The neat little living room was just like you'd expect in an old lady's house. Large floral prints with lots of lace.

"My son-in-law says he's going to drown these kittens if I don't get rid of them," she said. I couldn't tell if she was serious or not. There were four or five gray fuzzballs playing in the middle of the living room. The sight of kittens romping and pouncing on each other will bring a smile to anyone's face.

A little male with big paws and a skinny tail wandered up to me and I knew we had claimed each other. "He'll probably grow into those paws," she said.

He meowed in the carrier all the way home.

I named him Felix. I already had a cat named Oscar and it seemed logical, to me at least, to have a Felix. The Odd Couple.

Once in the apartment, I installed in my bedroom. Oscar wouldn't be a problem but I knew Lucky could be a bully and I had read that adult male cats sometimes killed kittens. Although I kept the bedroom door closed, poor Felix nonetheless hid under my bed for three days.

Gradually, he started to work his way into the hierarchy of my little cat kingdom. He quickly bonded with Oscar, perhaps because he sensed that Oscar was the gentler of the two cats.

A few weeks later, by the time he was ready for his shots, he was cuddling with Oscar. Once, I saw him nursing on Oscar's nipple!

I think I waited a bit too long to have him neutered, however. He sprayed stinky urine all over my shoes while I was at work. I made an appointment the next day. I ended up throwing those shoes out.

Quite by accident I discovered how much he loved chasing shiny things. The sun reflected off my microwave door and one evening when I was reheating something to eat and drove Felix wild. I called it the Shiny Flashy Game. I could make him chase a flashlight beam or use a jewel case or CD to catch the sunlight. Felix comically would chase the reflection across the floor, over furniture or up a wall. It amused me to no end.

Of my three cats, Felix was always the loudest and most vocal. He complained loudly if I cravenly let the food bowls empty. He would dance in front of me as I walked from room to room. He quickly learned the sound of cereal poured into a bowl and knew that I would let him lap at the milk after I ate the cereal. He also learned the sound of ice cream being scooped into a dish. I swore that cat could smell dairy in his sleep.

For some reason the sound of plastic bags frightened him. I never threatened him with a plastic bag or shook it in his face. I never did figure out the cause of this fear. Nonetheless, whenever I brought home groceries or shook open a new garbage can liner Felix would run for cover.

I learned never to let meat defrost on the counter. Inevitably Felix would find it, claw his way into the packaging and munch away. Neither plastic wrap nor foil could deter him. To defrost meat, I had to set it in the microwave where he couldn't get at it.

In many ways he was such a big baby. He competed with Oscar to sleep at the head of the bed. It was the most prized place, apparently because it was the warmest. He liked to sleep cuddled with one of his 'brothers.' When Felix discovered that I was the warmest thing in the house, he started sleeping on me, especially on winter nights.

An empty box provided Felix hours of entertainment. He'd jump in and out, in and out. When he tired, he'd fall asleep in a fuzzy ball at the bottom. A few times I even found him in one of those long, narrow Fridge Mate boxes.

Felix liked to 'make bread.' I had learned that this is a sign that a cat really likes you or at least trusts you.

Felix's favorite place was on my left shoulder. Whether I was at the computer, watching TV or at the kitchen table, he would crawl up, place his forepaws on my shoulder and his head near my left ear and purr LOUDLY. He didn't like to be put down and would dig his claws into my shirt when I tried. Many of my T-shirts have holes on the left shoulder.

I loved Felix's paws. I loved to take them between my thumb and forefinger and rub them gently, enjoying the silky fur on top of his paws and the soft, leathery paw pads. I teased him about his big paws. "Where'd you get those big ol' paws? How come you got puppy paws instead of kitty paws?"

Of course, he never had an answer.

***

Flash forward to 2006.

Felix adjusted well to the move this past July. I moved the cats to the new house one by one to reduce trauma and besides, I only have one carrier. Oscar was first and a few days later, I moved Felix. He meowed loudly for three hours solid. But once he discovered Oscar there and the familiar smells of the clothes and my bed, he settled in. He was the first to accept the dog. There was never any doubt my cats would get along with the other cats but the dog was a different story. They had never seen a dog let alone lived with one. Within a week, Felix was touching noses with the dog. They were never friends but he was unafraid of the big mutt.

I was determined to make Felix's last months as comfortable as possible. He loved the daily canned food, but he was still eating the dry food as well. I never refused him any affection. If he wanted to sit on my shoulder, I let him. Well, OK, I did put him down once or twice.

As we approached Halloween, he was sleeping more. He was hiding, too. I am not a cat expert but I do know that cats tend to hide when they're sick or dying. It's an instinct to protect themselves from predators.

His coat began to get matted and dull. He had stopped grooming. He continued to lose weight. He was sitting on my shoulder when I noticed I could feel every bone and joint underneath his fur.

His drool became bloody and he was leaving bloody spots all over the floor. Cancer is not contagious but blood on the floor couldn't be good for the other animals or us.

The last red flag came when he didn't run to the food bowls or start meowing when I opened a can of food. Always Felix had come running the moment I opened the can.

It was time for Felix to go on his journey.

I was away at college when my dad put down our family dog. Of course, I cried. But I didn't see the process and I had no idea what it involved. So I asked a lot of questions when I called the vet, and she asked a lot of questions of me. Did I want his body? What was I going to do with it? Did I want his ashes? I am an animal lover but there are limits. Besides, ashes could never capture Felix's spirit, his affectionate and goofy nature. No, I didn't want his ashes.

I was surprised to find out that putting an animal to sleep did, indeed, cost money.

Saturday morning and I was ready to go. I was dressed and had the carrier ready. But I couldn't find Felix. We looked and looked but he was hiding. The vet's office closed at noon and so that ended that for the weekend, at least. He did appear casually later that afternoon sitting right by a heating vent to stay warm.

Felix was mine for another 48 hours or so. I held him when I could but I also let him sleep. He looked peaceful at the head of my bed propped against the pillows.

I made an appointment for Monday afternoon.

My roommate Lucy, God bless her, went with me. She held him on her lap in the carrier. He meowed all the way to the office.

My heart started pounding as I carried him into the building. The receptionist was kind and spoke in a gentle tone. She had me sign a couple papers; I didn't even read them. For all I know, I could have signed over my first child.

We were ushered into a small examination room and told that the vet would be with us shortly. Lucy excused herself. I took Felix out of the carrier and put him on my shoulder one last time. This time, he didn't purr. For one last time, I rubbed one of his forepaws between my thumb and forefinger.

The vet came in with an assistant. We shook hands sadly. It was about then that I started crying. The vet reassured me that I was doing the right thing. As he shaved an area on one of Felix's arms, I could see the fear in his eyes. I watched the vet fill the syringe but I averted my eyes when he administered the shot.

I said quietly, "Go see Grandma."

And just like that, my funny, goofy, sweet, affectionate Felix was gone. I couldn't, and still can't, wrap my mind around the rapidity with which he passed away. For some reason, I couldn't touch him after he was dead.

I loved Felix so much I couldn't see him suffer. I know I did the right thing.

But I'll still miss him. I'll think of him whenever I see a flash of light or an empty box. He may not have been the brightest cat in the world but he was so good-natured.

And he never did grow into his paws.

Ó 2006 Nick Archer