Sadness

My kitty Atwood died.

That is a sad thing. I can't adequately eulogize the poor thin man. He was a bundle of annoying traits, a sack of frail bones and utterly loveable.

It was my good fortune to see him the week before he died. Let him crawl on my chest and watch him think about kneading my belly, just like old times.

Here's a picture of him taken last year.
How can such a thing happen?