My cat, named Bazil. He was there in my house when I was brought home from the hospital. My parents had him for several years. We had him until I was about 4 years old. Before, he's had a problem with his stomach, and said that if it happened again, he would surely die. Not too much later, we were unpacking the car from groceries, and didn't notice that he'd slipped out, and run away. He's not an outdoor cat, so he didn't know his way around or anything. We couldn't find him in the house, so we started looking outside, and couldn't find him. Days, weeks, of searching for a beloved cat, were useless. My parents and I were all very sad, and my dad said that he probably ran away because it was his time to go, and that most animals like to be in peace when it's their time. I still miss him to this day, even though my memories are very vague. R.I.P. Bazil.