I miss him a lot. Hunkered down in the window, snoozing in the sewing room, stalking heating vents, chasing his tail... the house feels weird and empty without him.
Our other cat, Cinders, knows something's up, and she seems pretty unsettled. So am I.
I'm setting up a memorial space in his sleeping spot in the sewing room, with his blankets and a toy and the ridiculous baby t-shirt the vet asked us to make him wear (which he hated). It had some patriotic baseball thing on the front, and I wish I could have snapped a picture of his expression when we first put it on him. What the hell, person?
He was so funny -- the type of cat that took everything extremely seriously, until he didn't.
Going through my photos, it's amazing how many of them are sewing-related. He was always there! He loved sitting on fabric and paper patterns (especially PDFs, as I was trying to tape them up), and watching me thread needles. (String, person. STRING.)
The ridiculous baby t-shirt:
And my all-time favorite picture of him: