I remember back in 1976 when I got Prince, a male grey-striped kitten. When Prince was a kitten, he would bring me dead gophers and squirrels to the back door in the garage, connected to the kitchen and meowed. He always bought them in the morning while I was eating breakfast. Mom would always tease me that Prince wanted to show me he was a great hunter.

Dad loved Prince because Prince would keep the unwanted animals out of his garden. When dad went fishing, he always gave Prince one of the fish that he caught.

I was at work when Becky found Prince at the side of the road, dead. I went with Becky in my car and picked up Prince’s body. When we got home, dad was upset that Prince was dead. He told me that I could bury Prince in mom’s flowerbed, on the side of the house. Dad told me that he saw Prince laying there sunning himself many times. It was unusual for dad to feel that way about a cat. Usually, he did not get along with cats.