I don’t know what to say. For 12 years you rolled with new houses and stupid cats and drooling dogs and loud little tail-yankers, and yet you never changed. You never acted out or punished me or required anything beyond some food, a blanket to drag down the hall between your legs when company was over, and a dripping faucet to drink your never-ending thirst for water that was apparently, years ago, your first diabetic sign.

Oh buddy, I remember when you fit into the palm of my hand, still blind b/c you were abandoned at two weeks and you were so freaking little. You stepped in Meg’s candle and singed half of your whiskers off, and walked funny for a long time after that. You would divebomb people’s heads from the top of the fridge and you were such a colossal shit at first that my roommates set out a sun tea pitcher with a sign on it that said THE LUCKY DE-CLAW AND NEUTER TRUST FUND and I raised, like, 70 bucks with that thing. And you never were very cuddly, but you were loyal. And fat, and cantankerous, and mine. Wholly.

You stuck around longer than half the people in my world currently, and though I keep reminding myself you were just a cat (and know there are people who will never understand caring about, much less BLOGGING about, an event like this), the truth is I am ridiculously sad. Much sadder than I realized I would be. Because in all the years, when everything else in my world could be upside down, you were simply there. And that was so much more comforting than I ever knew.

And now you’re not. And I’m going to miss you something fierce because of it.

So I hope you are in yogurt heaven, sir, with shoes to sleep in and blankets galore. And I hope you pick a new name, because although LuckehLeck was a fun alliteration, it sure was a dumb name. I’ve always regretted it and thought you deserved something more fitting. ..But we also called you Fat Man and Humpy McHumperson, so perhaps you should stick with it.

Bah. You were a damn good cat. RIP my grumpiest old man.