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Some people reflect on turning points in life and remember people who shared those emotional moments. In my life the apparent motif in personal highlights points to felines rather than humans. When I needed a rescue, comfort, support or tough love, a cat took on the challenge.

A large orange tabby, we scooped up Herb Jr. to replace the original Herb. His predecessor belonged to Grandpa Roy when he lived on the farm. He didn't really fit into the town lifestyle. Herb qualified for the short bus. He was stone deaf. A deaf cat doesn't hear a blaring horn. His death served as my children's first grief encounter.

His namesake taught me the importance of effective communication skills. Herb Jr's messages focused on clarity. As a single parent, my 13-year-old daughter and I set off on a new adventure moving to a new town with a new teaching job. Creative financial management meant that even the car served as a place to pack items. Clothes, kitchen supplies and personal belongings crammed every corner. Herb Jr protested with high-pitched yowls and growls during the two hour trip.

He believed in the direct approach by clearly sharing his perspective on moving. We dropped him onto the front room carpet. "Look Herb it's your new home. You can stretch and look out the big window!" I crooned to him as I bent over to pet his arched back. Nope. He wasn't having any of it. His dark eyes glared with anger.

First he slinked over to Andy, sat at her feet and uttered three loud shorts meows to make sure he had her attention. Then he regally passed by me pacing the length of the large picture window in search of the perfect spot. After deliberately turning to us again to make sure his audience noticed, he promptly pawed the carpet, slowly squatted low and pushed out a large log of poop!

As the one and only time Herb Jr chose carpet over litter, his action was no accident. It definitely served a purpose. There was much more to Herb Jr. than his vengeance.

Petting Herb Jr relieved lots of stress after a bad day in the classroom. His instincts drew him to my lap whenever I felt alone and disillusioned. He kept my feet warm at night and my thoughts more hopeful during the day. My respect for him and the way he relished life helped me choose his peaceful ending.

One autumn day, I noticed the lack of sparkle in his eyes. When I stroked his soft fur, the warmth of his skin alarmed me. The cat knew something was not right. After feline leukemia was confirmed, I strolled with my friend

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