Every so often I get feeling rather down. I miss that little bugger sometimes.

Fat, stupid, affectionate, loungy, and would always, ALWAYS curl up in the exact middle of the bed no matter what.

Habeneros. Asparagus. Tortilla chips. Broccoli. Licking my hair after going out to smoky bars. Kneading armpits. Dry-humping Kermit the Frog.

It's easy not to have a cat, you know? You just don't have one. They don't shed all over you. They don't puke on the floor in the middle of the night when you've got someone over (charming, really, when the girl finds out Prince Charming's feline has harfed a small sweater's worth of matted hair into her Fleuvogs).

But man, some nights when I wish he was there curled up in my lap, I really do miss him.

Miss ya, buddy.