You were named after a 16th Century Italian dancemaster.
I saw you when you were 4 weeks old. I couldn't bring you home, because you weren't old enough. I had to wait until you were three months old. I drew little cat pictures everywhere. During meetings at work, and at my co-workers' whiteboards.
When I came to pick you up, I almost didn't bring you home with me. Your breeder and I had an argument, but we resolved it, and I drove back for you.
When I brought you home, I was worried when I couldn't see you. Where is Caroso?! Oh. There you were.
You were clumsy as a kitten. And occasional as a cat. Not long ago, you were curled up at the edge of the bed, and then slid between the bed and the end table.
When I come home, you would come running up to me. When I call you, you would come.
Once, I was angry with you, but you brought me a gift of an insect.
I would put you in my arms, and squeeze you, because you were so cute. You would let out a meow of protest.
Sometimes I wouldn't let you in my room, and you would meow meow meow.
You got carsick when we moved from Round Rock to Austin, and threw up.
You had UTI and peed in the wrong places. And I got mad. But I felt bad getting mad at you when I realized you were just trying to tell me you were in pain.
You were alpha cat in Bridle Path.
Caroso, you were only three years old. We should've had more years together.
I hope you will be happy, where ever your spirit goes.
I am sorry if I wasn't the best mother.
I want you to know that you were loved. I loved you..
Rest in peace.
Dear God, please bless him.