I thought he’d make it to Monday, but he didn’t. He wasn’t alone and he wasn’t in pain, at least.

My folks were look­ing after him and I vis­ited with him Saturday after­noon, pet­ted him, cud­dled with him on the couch and played silly games (“Got your paw” and “Got your tail”). He seemed drugged, almost, but still man­aged to respond, look­ing up at me and get­ting his chin scritched.

Sunday at a lit­tle before 10 AM the phone rang; he was sink­ing fast. I couldn’t ge there in time. By 10:15 he was dead.

Having seen it com­ing may have helped. Having had 18 or so years with this cat surely helped. He lived a very long and full life.

And on the plus side, his page man­aged to get more hits — for a while any­way — than any­thing else here, even my posts about that show on Nickelodeon.

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