My family cat, Hobbs, died yesterday. He was a very old fellow. In fact, he was older than Boo by a couple of years.

Hobbs' brother, Beezie, died a little while back. I can still remember the day we brought Beezie and Hobbs home from the Human Society. I held a kitten against my jean jacket as I carried it into the house, and when I tried to set him down inside the house it felt like pulling Velcro off my jacket.

The funny story about our kittens was that we thought they were girl cats when we got them. They were named Suzie B (for Susan B Anthony) and Lizzie (for Elizabeth Stanton) when we first got them. But when we took them in for a vet check up, the vet lifted up a kitten's tail and announced, "Suzie B is a boy." Then, "So's Lizzie."

So instead of naming our kittens for feminist leaders, we named them as demons. ("Hob" is an old nickname for the devil, and Beezie was short for Beelzebub.)

I don't think I'm really a cat person at heart, but I loved Beezie and Hobbs. I'm glad that they enjoyed long lives with us, and I hope we made them as happy as they made us.