It's been a rough few months, for more than a few months now.
Cancer surgery on my head and a broken right wrist on my birthday ... and that was only February.
Last week, just days before his 17th birthday, the old Pink cat left us.
He was as good a cat as I could have ever wanted.
He was older than my first marriage.
He disappeared twice, but we got him back each time.
He never bit the kids.
He slept on one of them every night since they arrived at our house.
He tolerated the dog.
He sat at the end of the hedge and waited for his kids to come from school.
I still look for him on the yellow chair in the kitchen.
I still think I hear his meow.
I'll miss him forever.