Rufus died at 12:45 this morning. I was with him and I held him and told him he had done all he had come here to do.

This is his grave. He is buried under the bench, under Buddha. Rufus liked to sit on the bed and look out the big picture window. This is the view from the window so it seemed like the perfect place. He was buried with love and care, with colored sands blessed by the Dalai Lama and a dried yet still fragrant rose from earlier this summer. It was a beautiful early dark morning and he was buried under the stars.

I was 27 when Rufus entered my life as a rough and tumble tom cat on the streets around my apartment in South Fayetteville. I had just returned to Fayetteville from Oregon. I was lonely and unsure about moving back and then this lovable cat bounced (well sort of rolled and bounced) out of the bushes over a retaining wall and onto the sidewalk at my feet. I remarked that he was silly as he did not land on his feet.

Weeks went by and he kept coming around, notably at an outdoor party where he was seen eating hotdogs out of the hands of party guests. He would lie outside in the back yard covered in leaves and dirt just sleeping without a care in the world for hours. I would watch and remark at how unguarded he was. He also got beat up a lot. He was a lover not a fighter and had some severe puncture wounds to prove it.

I finally decided that I wanted to have this lovable oaf in my life and took the steps to clean him up, feed him, take him to the vet and put a collar around his neck staking my claim on this neighborhood "stray." A few days after this bold move, there was a wadded up ball of paper on my door step. I opened it and there was a child's handwriting. "He is my cat! His name is Stripes" Not a stripe on him, I thought differently. I figured out who his "owner" was- she lived two doors down with an overwhelmed single mother who confessed they couldn't care for him and that if I wanted him she was sure he would be better off. I always felt sad for the little girl but I told her she could come by and see him any time and she did for a while. She always remarked at how pretty he was now and how fluffy his hair had become and how big he was. I ended up teaching this little girl at the school down the street and even years later she would ask, "How's Stripes?"

The little girl received him as a present from a kindergarten teacher in Oregon so the story goes and when they moved from there they brought him to Fayetteville. Another Oregonian cat! (I have a cat Evie, who was found (stolen from another child, whose parents could not care for a pet) in Oregon. I am nothing if not consistent.

Rufus lived in three homes and helped me celebrate the last three years of my twenties, all of my thirties and a touch of my forties. He loved to play, harass Evie when he was younger and sleep at the head of the bed on the pillows (and on your head). He had the greatest purr and would come to the door to greet you just like a dog. He also loved my dog Bodhi and that made me very happy. I was relieved when they slept next to each other and groomed each other, so very sweet.

I could go on and on but at some point I know I must stop. I just wanted to share a little of his story and mark his brilliant life in some way.

I love you Rufus. I miss you. You were an extraordinary cat, thank you for everything you gave me.