Steve Ember
Mewer adopted me on an October afternoon in 2004 at a shelter in northern Virginia. He was thought to be either 3 or 4 at the time. Mewer was as sweet and intuitive as he was handsome, and he had me all figured out from our first hours together in his new digs, which quickly came to be known as Mewer Manor. At times, the workplace could be turbulent, and I might come home in the blackest of moods. Unfailingly, seeing my little sidekick at the door and hearing his welcoming purr-gurgle “hello,” the black mood went “poof!” and things were right. As his name would imply, Mewer was a great conversationalist, yet he had the uncanny intuition to know when I needed him to be quiet (as when recording audio book narrations in my home studio). Often, I’d be at my computer for hours, editing audio or photographs, and happen to look down and see him there by my chair or under the desk…just wanting to be near his Daddy. We were together almost 13 years; he will always be close to my heart.
