My cat's name was Leon. He was 8 years old when we lost him to cancer. He was our sweet baby boy. As a kitten he would cry to be picked up and quiet when held, just like a baby. I think he was so beautiful. I called him my lion king because his favorite place to sleep was on top of all the decorative pillows on my bed, like a king. He would wait outside my bedroom door every morning to greet me, and walk down with me to have breakfast.

He always begged for some of my oatmeal. He liked tuna, chicken, and curiously, pie. But just the crust. We fed him bits of treats, but tried to give him the best of care. He never tired of my hugs and kisses, of which I had many.
We always said he was part dog, because he would run to the door when you came home and come when you called his name. But he had his independent cats ways also. His beautiful gold eyes were so unique and when he looked at me, I could feel his love. I will always have a cat, but none a loving and sensitive as my Leon. I miss him everyday, but hope he is with his big brother, Chester, in kitty heaven.