He had been abandoned at birth, and when found, was severely dehydrated, covered with fleas, had worms, and horrible diarrhea. He was rushed to a nearby vet who said, had he not been found, he was hours away from certain death.

When it was obvious he would survive, I named him Chance, because he got a “Chance at life”. Over the course of several weeks he became strong and healthy and he came to live with me and my other boy, Leo (then 12 years old).

Chance always greeted me at the door when I came home, and often joined me when I was greeting guests. He nibbled my nose to wake me for his breakfast. He frolicked into the kitchen for meals, and would use the drawers to climb up to the counter and peer over the edge to watch as I spooned out his food. He would jump into the middle of the bed as I was making it. He would paw at my legs when he wanted ‘up-cuddles’. He would sit in the kitchen to keep me company as I cooked, or washed dishes. He loved chasing his older brother’s tail and biting his ears as he slept. He slept on my feet at night, or just at my side when he balled on the sofa. He loved playing with long pieces of sturdy string. He could play “fetch” for hours. He insisted on knocking over everything in his path, or stop to pull a towel or blanket off wherever it lay. He was my shadow.

He continued to have minor intestinal issues during his short life, and we discovered he had an inoperable mass, which took his life 24 hours later, at the tender age of three.

I am devastated. I miss him greatly, and I would give anything to have him home again. His personality was larger than life and my memories of him will forever warm my heart. My precious little “feather”.