George was 17 when I first mentioned him in the creation / evolution article. He died at the age of 19. That is pretty old for any cat, but in George's case even more so, when you realize he was on death row at the age of 6 months. We found George at the Humane Society Animal Shelter. Whether he had been dumped there or picked up as a stray I don't know, however had we not adopted him he might never have reached his 1st birthday.

I looked at several other cats that day. One in particular I remember. He was a big handsome smoky gray cat. I thought that’s the one, until I picked him up and he proceeded to bite me. Others ran violently in their cage – being too feral to have as a pet. Some cowered in fear far from reach. George on the other hand, stuck his nose out of the cage to be rubbed. His whole attitude said take me home, so I did.

My Uncle George always thought we named the cat after him (he considered it an honor), but that is not the case. We named him after a bit in a Bugs Bunny cartoon. You know the one with the abominable snowman where he gets a choke hold on Bugs and says something like, "I will hug him and hold him, and kiss him and squeeze him, and keep him for my very own, and I will name him George."

At that time we already had a Spitz named Snowball. George and Snow quickly became best friends. They used to wrestle. George would leap across the yard sideways and jump on Snow's head. The two of them would literally tumble over the hill. Then the dog would sit on George and pin him to the ground. When Snowball died, George went into a deep depression. He actually got suicidal. He would lie in the road and dare the cars to hit him.

Moon Shadow (a cat), his second best friend, finally brought him out of it after a lengthy time of mourning. Shadow is an interesting story himself. George found this very small kitten wandering in the woods and brought him home. It wasn’t like he asked us if we wanted another cat. George basically told us he was keeping him.