June (?), 1988 - February 22, 1998

His name was officially Morgan S., and he was named after Morgan Earp, Wyatt's younger brother.  I don't think anyone knows what the "S" stood for.
Other names considered:  Aslan (from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by CS Lewis.  I considered the same name for Pendaran.)
He always went by Morgan.
That's not quite true, actually.  He also pretty routinely went by some names I won't list here because they are rude.
LARGE and handsome.  When I first got Morgan, he was slender and angular and a bit Siamese-looking (he even had a kink at the end of his tail).  I was sure he'd never have to worry about his weight.  I was very wrong... 
As soon as he turned one year old he started gaining, and we battled weight issues for the rest of his life.  His ideal weight was around 16 pounds (7.2 kg), but at his heaviest, he weighed 20 pounds (9.1 kg).  He really didn't eat any more than the rest of my cats and he was very active, so I guess his metabolism was just off a bit.
Morgan was very strong and - surprising for such a big fellow - quite agile and athletic.
Morgan had a fairly soft, squeaky, abbreviated sort of meow.  Though he wasn't loud, he managed to get the maximum effect out of his meow.  He liked to wait until we were almost asleep, then give a few soft, evenly-spaced meows - just enough to wake us up.  Then he'd stop for a few moments until we were almost asleep again, and then resume meowing.  He repeated the process as often as it took to drive us to the brink of insanity.
Purr:  Barely audible but moderately frequent.
Biscuits:  He occasionally made half-biscuits when very happy.
Morgan originally belonged to some really trashy people who lived in my apartment complex.  I was not pleased when I saw they'd adopted a kitten, and was even less pleased when it became apparent that their idea of caring for him involved letting him roam around outside and eat out of garbage cans.  I started putting out food for him, as did several other people living in the complex.
When Morgan was about 10 months old, the trashy people were evicted.  They left him behind, so he came to live with me.
As a side note, after I adopted Morgan, a half-stray cat being fed by a lady downstairs gave birth to a litter of kittens, and it was pretty obvious who the father of at least one of the kittens was, as she looked like a carbon copy of Morgan.  She went to live with a vet I knew, who named her Mitzi.  Mitzi wound up with her father's personality as well as his looks and was apparently a holy terror during her short life.  Her mother, unfortunately, had Feline Leukemia and thus Mitzi was born with the disease and didn't quite make it to the age of two.
A couple of paragraphs just aren't going to cut it to describe Morgan's personality, but I'll give it a shot.  He was outgoing and utterly fearless, extremely intelligent, strong-willed and stubborn, active and curious, and very affectionate in a sappy, rambunctious way.
Morgan loved to meet people and was not intimidated by anyone.  He rummaged through guests' purses, climbed all over them, and showed off for all he was worth.  He definitely enjoyed being the center of attention.
He very willingly wore a harness and leash and went hiking all over the place with me, dragging me through bushes and cactus to explore areas that particularly interested him.
He was into everything, especially in his younger years.  I recall (vividly) coming home from work one evening, in a hurry to pack and drive to Phoenix for a wedding, and finding that Morgan had done some exploring in the upper kitchen cabinets.  There was stuff everywhere, but what particularly sticks in my mind is the pile of tea bags on the floor, which he had carefully removed from the box and shredded, and the full jar of molasses, which he'd sent plummeting to the floor where it shattered into a sticky mess on top of the tea bag pile.   Then there was the time he rolled an open can of cleanser around and around the apartment, creating a light blue-green trail criss-crossing the chocolate-brown carpet.   I installed child-proof latches on the cabinets after that.  They didn't slow him down much.
In his later years, Morgan became a bit less destructive and a bit more affectionate, but every bit as curious.
Liver cancer.  See Details.
Hiking; scraping loudly and at length in the litter box; knocking over glasses of liquid; shredding the sofa; acting as a "foundation" cat in Cat Piles; and washing other cats.
Morgan didn't much like other cats at first.   After Blue Moon's death, Roo was lonely and kept trying to curl up with him.   Morgan rebuffed him at first, but Roo eventually won him over and Morgan was not only a staple in Cat Piles after that, but was also in charge of washing everyone.  He got along well with all the other cats, but was closest to Roo and Jessamyn.


Scared of nothing!