We Would Have Needed a Bigger Bed

The boyo was put to sleep two years ago today, and it still sucks. I read my post from his 1st death day, and it made me sad. It didn’t make me happy at all. I miss him. In everyday life I remember him happily, even when I’m saluting his grave in my backyard. I remember all the crazy cat stuff he did that made him great, but today there is an ache. I’m sort of glad for it because I never want his place in my life completely taken up by something else. I wish he had been ten years younger so LMJ could have known him. Actually, I don’t wish he was younger; I wish cat life spans were thirty years instead of twenty. He got wiser as he got older. Aloof master of the universe would have been better than bloodthirsty super-predator with an infant running around. He would have been a great babysitter. He would have occupied most of her waking thoughts. I doubt she would be as interested in keys as she is now if there was a furry little beasty thing she could chase. She would be on a noble quest to grab that elusive tail. She would probably eat a lot of cat food though. He would let her baby handle him until it wasn’t fun anymore, and then find a place millimeters out of her reach. He would teach her the lessons of frustration, and that she wasn’t the center of the universe. It would be an honest mistake and he wouldn’t judge her for her arrogant misconception. It would be natural for her to believe she was the be all end all due to her close proximity to the actual center of the universe – him. I miss that for LMJ because she’ll never know him. We’ll have other cats, and we will love them dearly, but they’ll always be subject to the “…yeah but Mr. Kitty…” standard. I’m going to have some tuna and some chicken today for him – and a beer or two for me.