Farewell, my friend

Nick, our male tuxedo cat, died last night from kidney failure. He was only eight years old. He should have had many more years of getting pets, of eating tuna and watching birds fly.

We nicknamed him Velcro because he never got enough attention. He’d come sit next to you, and if you were busy doing something and tried to ignore him, he’d reach out one of his snowy white paws and tap you on the shoulder. Tap, tap; pet me, pet me.

I keep thinking maybe I could have done something differently that would have saved him. A different vet, a different treatment. He was too young to die.

He will be missed.