I met Milo when I was 19 and spent my second date with Howard at his apartment. He chewed my shoes and my purse and proceeded to do so every time I visited Howard thereafter. This means for 3.5 years I didn't own anything without Milo bite marks.
While I'm sure my mother in-law is appreciative of Milo's protectiveness, he also bothered Howard whenever he tried to work on his dissertation, Milo would lay across the book and flat out refuse to let Howard read it.
We still own the nightstands he scratched up when he wasn't allowed to interrupt Howard's doctoral work, and I'm so glad now I didn't paint them this summer like I had intended, because they're a reminder of the fur person who left us this morning.
Milo was an eerily smart cat, and knew more about our family than we probably do. He lived with Howard while we dated, and because even a year of allergy shots didn't improve the reactions he gave me, Milo selflessly went on a study abroad program to the Boerne ranch with Howard's parents and decided to make it a permanent move. Thus, he knew both sets of the Boerne Shorts more than any fly on the wall ever will.
He was there while we courted and while Howard accomplished the great task that is a Ph.D. He saw us through our ups of football and family fun and downs of loss and heartache. He watched Karen and George become Oma and Opa.
He was moody, but what gifted mind isn't prone to some drama? If he were left alone, not allowed to go on vacation, he would take a good 24 hours before warming up to you again. But once you were on his good side, it was sweet.
He purred like a race car. He snuggled like a baby.
He was superior to all other cats. And he knew it.
He was a wise, sweet soul always dressed for the occasion with both a tux and dignified manner. He is Milo...of Otis and Milo. And our family won't be the same without him.