Today, after 16 years, I had to put my buddy down. I was a complete mess at the vet and had 2 of my daughters with me. I suspected the worst because for days he hadn't been eating, staggering around and crying. All day long he was super lethargic and wouldn't even cuddle on my lap.

His story started when my ex and I were first married. We were just getting our first apartment set up when we found out that my dad was looking for people to take some kittens. My dad had been caring for one of the strays at his auto repair and the mama decided to have her litter in the back of one of the broken down cars.

After delivering her babies, she was rounded up and taken to be spayed, while the "old man who hates cats" proceeded to find homes for all the kits. We were smitten by the beautiful blue eyes shared by one boy and his sister and took them in, despite a no pet policy at our little studio apartment.

It was only a matter of months before we both felt badly about living there and rather than renew our initial lease, we sought a pet friendly home. We moved a bit further south and found a nice 2 bedroom where we could also have a room for our first daughter. There we had a pretty nice setup including a very large closet that served as a nice place to keep the litter out of sight. This whole time, neither of us could figure out what to call these two bundles of energy. It was just him and her.

We were a happy little family until we decided that we needed something a bit larger. We were soon moving onto baby number 3 and both wanted a house. Stupidly, we made the mistake of purchasing a doublewide in a trailer park with a no-cat policy. :(

We were very upset and wound up placing the cats with my sisters. They had a larger home and were able to take them in. It meant we still got to see them once in a while and we knew they were well cared for.

We went on with our lives thinking we were done with these two cats, only to find that when my sister and her husband wanted to find a place to live, they'd be doing so out of a motor home. Certainly not an ideal environment. They tried, but one night his sister got out and never came home.

We also decided to find someplace to settle down and purchased a home in Kentucky. Knowing we were going to be more stable, we decided to take him back. It would be good for us and better for him.

Unbeknownst to me, my sisters, had decided to give him a name. He had packed on the pounds and in homage to the Austin Powers movies, named him Fat Bastard. To the kids and everyone else, they said either Fat Boy or just FB.

This just wouldn't do and so we renamed him Mutah. A name that fit much better and was far cleaner. It also meant that we could just shorten it to Mu.

The car trip out East was a real adventure. We had purchased a harness to put him on as we traveled so that he could get out and walk a bit at the rest stops. He would ride with the kids in the old van, while I would drive the moving truck.

It was our first rest stop on the way to Spokane where we got out and tried the leash for the first time. Never having been really anywhere, the sensory overload was a bit much for Mu. He took into the deeper grass and started pulling at the leash.

I attempted to reign him in and he flipped in the air, twisting right out of the harness. I was able grab hold of him, but he lashed out with claws and teeth, leaving my right arm a mass of scratches and puncture wounds.

I was so upset that when he bolted into the fields around the rest area, I figured it was good riddance.

It was only a short while later that someone backed up the freeway entrance ramp to ask us if we had a cat. He had run through the fields and was waiting at the edge of the road.

The ex loaded up and went to retrieve him. To the great relief of the family.

We figured we couldn't risk another getaway so kept him in the car until we got to Spokane and could purchase a cat carrier.

While doing so, someone mentioned that children's benadryl had a sedative affect on cats. I'm ashamed to admit that we were so frustrated and afraid of how he was handling things, we tried it. He proceeded to drool and bubble red foam for hours all over the white carpets of my ex sister-in-law's home.

Spokane was our last stop inside a building for the rest of the move. We drove across the country stopping at camp areas and pitching a tent. Each night, we pulled him out of the van and loaded him into the tent with us. We constantly worried about anyone opening the tent door and having him run off.

Happily, we didn't have any more issues, he figured out a cozy spot in the van and survived the trip.

Settling into Kentucky proved a challenge for the old boy. Not only did he have more kids to deal with than ever before, that first Christmas, the wife and kids decided I needed a dog. The 18 month old black lab was more animal than he'd ever dealt with before. During that period, his home was our bedroom and his safe spot as far back as possible under our bed.

The dog proved incompatible with the ex and she returned him one day while I was at work. Much to Mu's relief, as he started to finally come out and explore.

Thinking that the home was still missing a pet, the family adopted another cat. She didn't adapt well and Mu, declawed as a baby, couldn't really defend himself. The two never formed any sort of bond and he continued to struggle.

One birthday, I came home to a pair of kittens in the home as well. These two would eventually stay with Mu and I for a while, but ultimately prove too much an emotional and financial strain on me.

It was during all this that I started missing the signs that my "happy home" wasn't so. Divorce soon followed and I took Mu with me for company.

We found a great apartment where he and I would spend his remaining years. For a few months, we tried to have the other two boys here, but it was too much of a toll on me. I was struggling emotionally and my financial resources were strained with my new living arrangement. I had to let them go, but couldn't put him out to pasture.

He grew to be my best bud. I know they don't see us the same, but I think in his eyes, I was just a bigger cat that was okay to be around. He'd greet me at the door each evening, snuggle on the back of my legs, follow me around as I did my chores and chat with me in the mornings as I got ready for work.

I don't know what I would have done had he not been a part of my life. I am so thankful for Mutah. To be honest, I'm a bit scared because tomorrow night will be the first time in a long time that my apartment is completely empty when I get home.

For the better part of 16 years he's been in my family. When his kidney's started to go he hid it so well that we didn't pick up on it until it was too late. Even now the tears haven't stopped. I'm going to miss him so much. I loved that cat.