The next evening, I returned from work to find the present on top of Mugsie’s leavings again. Were these the remains of the day? Mugsie was communicating with me in his own inimitable fashion to let me know his opinion about being left home alone for too long. He thought it was a “poop-y” thing to do? Once I sat in a chair, wondering what Mugsie did to earn his keep.

I thought about how I fed him, emptied his kitty litter, and took care of all his needs. What did he do for me? At this moment, as I questioned the balance between us, Mugsie high-stepped into the room. He walked over to the corner and wiped a cobweb off the wall. Then he turned and gave me a look that let me know I should never question his value again.

I didn’t. Mugsie lived to be twenty-one years old, seeing me through a divorce, a new marriage, to Allen, and a move to the cold land of Minnesota. Finally, it was time for his rascally old body to give out. And the cat who loved only me left this earth while I held him in my arms and cried. But before Mugsie left, he’d started living with our newest addition to the angel animal family, Prana, our gentle golden retriever.

Prana tried everything to get Mugsie to accept her love. But the old critter

consistently spurned the dog’s affection. Mugsie died never knowing how much more love he could have had. The night before Mugsie left us, I promised him I’d love to have him live with me again. — Beliefnet.com