My father had a junkyard in Pennsylvania. In the summer of 1998, several stray cats appeared, and we would leave food out for them. One orange cat was very shy, but seemed gentle and I wanted to become his friend -- although every time I approached him, he ran away. I was determined and eventually I was able to pet him; then he ran away again. After that, he became more and more friendly with us, and my little brother and I named him Dr. Floyd, after a character in the movie 2001.

I moved to Virginia a few years later, and took Dr. Floyd with me. For the next 9 years, he and I were best friends -- we slept on the bed together, I told him stories, and I took care of him. He became my Buddy Buddy, and I called him all kinds of nicknames.

In the summer of 2011, he got sick. I took him to several vets to find out what was wrong, and the diagnosis was cancer. I knew my time with him was limited, and we did a *lot* of special things in those last months. We visited New York City, took a ride on a ferry, and brought joy to a wonderful 3 year old girl who was so happy to see him. I know that time with him was a blessing to me from God. He passed away that November, after I did everything I could for him.

Today, if you ever go to the town of Edenton, North Carolina, visit the marina area. Near the Barker House, you will see two cannons. On the brick walkway there, you will see written PETER & DR. FLOYD WERE HERE. That will be there for a long long time. :-)