The coolest cat that I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing died Monday morning.

He had not acted sick or hurt at all.

I walked downstairs in the morning and saw him laying on the floor in the dinning room.  Called him.  Cookie, one of the dogs, sniffed at him.  He didn’t move a muscle.  Tapped his foot with mine.  Nothing.

He was a mere 5 1/2 years old.

I’m heartbroken.  The other animals seem shaken up.  Jayne, his litter-mate, sat upstairs and meowed all day, as if crying for her brother’s passing.

He was my baby and I miss him terribly.