Michael's very own first pet was a tiny kitten that we found at our barn in Florida when he was two year's old. The kitten had been stepped on by a horse and was dying. Michael picked him up and wouldn't put him down. He was too young to understand what was going to happen, so I explained that the kitten was very sick and was going away. I knew that kitten's demise was soon to come. Michael kissed the kitten and asked me if we could find a kitty doctor to make him better but I knew that the kitten must have had internal injuries and there wouldn't be any hope.

 Two hundred and forty dollars later, Joey came home from the vet and was raised on a bottle by Michael and became his constant companion. He slept in Michael's Easter Basket in his room next to his bed and followed him everywhere. They had an incredible bond and they grew up together as best friends. When Michael was old enough to go to school, Joey walked with us to the school bus stop. Joey knew what time the school bus would return after school like clockwork. He would take shortcuts through various backyards and sit at the bus stop and wait for Michael's bus to bring him home every day. Joey lived to be ten years old.

  Michael was practically raised on the back of a little pony named Lil Darlin that I bought for a quarter long before Michael was born. She was in her 30's. I gave her a place where she could live out her remaining days after having lived a very hard life. She was worn out and looked frightful, but she was a good friend to Michael. As a toddler she allowed him to sit on her back while she walked very slowly around the barn with him to entertain him. She knew that she was carrying precious cargo and was always careful with him on board. Lil Darlin eventually passed away and that was the first time that Michael experienced the death of something he loved.

   When Michael was two years old he rode my Quarter Horse, Sonny in the shows in leadline classes for a couple of years. Sonny was far from a child’s mount, so when Michael was five, we bought him his own Quarter Horse to show, a senior citizen named Classic Action. Classic towered over Michael and the "Gentle Giant" took great care of him. Michael loved to play games with Classic and he taught him to put his head down low so that he could get on his back by himself by climbing up his neck. He'd ride him over to a tree where he would grab on to a branch to climb up the tree and be on the lookout for bad guys. Classic waited patiently for him until he wanted to get back down out of the tree and wouldn't move an inch until he knew that Michael was back in the saddle safely. Michael liked to play cowboys and Indians with him so he used to put bird feathers in his mane that he'd find on the ground, thus making Classic into an Indian. The horse gave his heart to Michael and Michael returned his love. They shared many years together. Classic died due to a freak accident when a bolt of lighting ricocheted off a tree and struck him while he was standing in the barn. Since Michael lost Classic, he quit horsemanship because the loss broke his heart deeply. He still loved Sonny, and rode him around occasionally. He had a natural gift with horses and it was a waste for him to turn his back on his training and riding abilities but he insisted, "No more horses."

  Through the years, our other horses grew very old into their late 20's and 30's and passed away from various problems. Michael was always there to help administer medication including of course, his beloved Classic.

  Michael hated being land-locked in Tennessee away from the ocean so he kept salt and fresh water aquariums in his room with a wide variety of species of fish along with his jar of salt water and sand taken from Venice beach in Florida. He knew more about fish than most pet store owners and he loved to challenge their knowledge and would gloat when they didn't know the answers to his complicated questions. He was a walking encyclopedia when it came to fish. He could stare at fish in the ocean for hours and then come home and study all about their habits and needs until he could identify hundreds of species easily. He baffled the people at the Tennessee Aquarium with his advanced knowledge of sea life and was asked to give them a call when he graduated from High School.

  When the Miniature Horses came into play, Michael became slightly interested and trained Holly, our first Miniature. Holly was obnoxious as a young filly, and that appealed to Michael. When he saw her acting up, he’d say "Give her to me mom," and he would work his magic with her every time. I was happy to step back and let him work with her, his way. He knew what he was doing. He took her to a show once and they did well that day. But showing wasn’t fun like it used be with our old crowd in Florida and without Classic, so that was his final time in the horse show ring.

  In April of 2006, one of the barn cats gave birth to a litter of five kittens in our and disappeared two days later and never returned. We looked for her for days. She must have gone into the woods and got killed by something or she would have come back. Three of the kittens died quickly despite our efforts to save them. Three times I had to tell the boys, "Get the shovel." By the time there were only two kittens left, Michael took over and said "enough!" He brought the remaining two kittens into his bedroom for constant care around the clock, but lost one the next night. Determined not to loose the last kitten, Michael brought her to the vet and we stocked up on even more medicine and formula than we already had. He fed her from a syringe, and then a bottle, and medicated her every two hours round the clock for a week and it was touch and go. He didn't get any sleep but he didn't care. She was alive and well and he saved her. Michael wrapped her up in a pink baby blanket with her toy rattle and began to carry her everywhere. She fit perfectly in the palm of his hand.

She was only 4/10ths of a pound. She liked to be in his shirt pocket or sit on his shoulder or get rocked on the porch rocking chair every day in his lap. She wasn't growing but she was doing very well medically. We named her Shania, as in "Twain." Shania began to eat canned cat food and drink milk from a bowl and started to develop quite a little personality. She was playing and running around and climbing up on the furniture. She liked to sit on Michael's shoulder and watch TV with him. She learned to bite Michael's finger and bat her rattle. She got very demanding and learned to cry at the back door when she wanted to go outside and lay in the sunshine; and scream at the door until you opened it up to let her back in. Michael loved her and she loved him back. The morning of the funeral we found Shania laying dead in the living room on her little pink blanket. How ironic that Michael’s first pet was a kitten saved by his hand and raised on a bottle, and his last pet was a kitten that he saved the same way?

  Our family house dogs are Devin the mutt and Tracey our AKC German Shepherd. We've had them since they were puppies and they loved Michael very much for the past nine years. The minute they hear you mention the name "Michael" they both stand at attention and look around. They don't understand where he is and they miss him very much. I told them that Michael can't come back because I believe that they understand much more than we humans think they do. Sometimes in the middle of the night they begin to bark and whine at nothing. I wonder if they can feel Michael's presence.

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  Michael and Daniel have always picked up dogs that had been dumped on the side of our mountain roads. I'd stop the truck in the road, and the boys would take off in pursuit of scared and starving dogs and load them up in the back of the truck. We were always unable to keep any of them because Devin and Tracey will not have it, but the boys provided immediate care and shelter for them until we could get them into a good home.