Moe

Once upon a time in Miami a cat named Lucky gave birth to four kittens. The last one to be appear was more than just the runt of the litter, she was dead, or so it seemed. The observers of this quadruple birth felt that at least there were three healthy kittens, which they quickly called Larry, Mo, and Curly. But suddenly there was a sign of life from the fourth kitten and with a little feline CPR she began to breathe. This happy occurrence changed the names of the quartet to Eeny, Meeny, Miney, and Moe—Moe being the tiny new survivor. Moe was quickly adopted by one of my closest friends and grew into a loyal one-man cat and a formidable foe to just about everybody else. As she got older however, she became much more agreeable, and one couldn't help admiring her sense of regal authority made even more so by her dense black-and-white-as-ermine coat. The irony of this story will surprise cat lovers  everywhere. Because while each of the other three healthy, robust kittens found loving homes—and new names— none of them lived especially long  But Moe, the runt of the litter, the near-dead kitten with the least optimistic prospects, endured and thrived and had more than her share of admirers. Sadly, for all those admirers, Moe died yesterday, Monday, September 28. She was 22 years old.