Spike is perhaps the greatest cat that ever lived. He came to us in April, 1992 (just one month after our marriage) from an elementary school in Wilmington, California as an almost-grown kitten, a mix of Bombay and other breeds, giving him a sleek, muscular body (the Bombay was bred to look like a panther) with jet black fur and n orange tabby undercoat that was only visible under certain lighting conditions. His bright eyes were gold and green. Because he had some sort of injury before we found him on his mouth (later it would look kind of like a hair lip), we decided to give him a "tough-sounding" name: Spike.

From the beginning he was an amazingly sweet cat. The first weekend, he spent with my wife, purring constantly as he did whenever he was near anyone throughout his life. He just loved people, and he always wanted to be near us. Whether it was while we were in bed, pulling weeds in the yard, working around inside or outside the house, watching television, or just using the bathroom, Spike was always near ... unless he was playing "jungle cat" outside. He even liked when we would fold clothes, as he knew he could play with them as they were being folded.

He loved to play, and especially liked playing near my wife so that he could run, chase, slide around the floor and then look up at her to make sure she was watching. He felt that his "sisters" were his playthings, and liked to chase them also -- even when they really didn't want to. He was an amazingly agile athlete, and could jump and catch almost anything. Outside, he liked to investigate the neighbors yard and play in their bushes, pretending to be a "jungle cat" and finding exotic animals to play with: bugs, birds, lizards and the like.

At night, he would wait until the lights were out and we were in bed before he would become "stealth cat," appearing out of nowhere onto the bed when he would run up onto my chest and purr for about 5 minutes. After than he would move off me and into an area between our heads ... still purring. In the morning he would usually sleep in ... purring ... until we both got out of bed.

His life was cut far too short on August 23, 1998 when he decided to go outside and play about 10 pm. Even though there is little traffic on our street -- especially late on a Sunday evening, and Spike rarely even went into the street, he managed to get hit and killed by a car probably just moments after he went outside.

I like to think that God is taking care of Spike now, and that someday we will see him again. We both miss him very much and hope that he is ok.

If you would like to see pictures of spike, click here.

Thank you for visiting my tribute to Spike.