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My cat is my VIP. That’s right. We’re attached at the hip. If I’m at home, he’s within three feet of me, and when I leave the house, it’s a legitimate crisis for him. There are maybe three people in my life that are close friends/would notice within a week of my death…but, this cat – he’s my baby.

He’s about seven, so he’s right at that middle age where he still has his “kitten” moments, but is mostly relaxed. One of the cutest things he does is sit next to me, and paw at me with his head tipped until I give him attention. I adore the little man and worry about his mortality. It’s not that he’s sick, it’s more so that I’ve never had such a close bond with an animal, and will probably never have one again…He’s basically perfect, and should live forever. Or something like that. I’m already worried about missing him when he’s gone.

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