The best cat EVER.

Thanks for your comments about Gershwin. He put up a valiant fight, but had used up all nine lives, and I let the neurologist put him to sleep this morning when he stopped breathing on his own.

I got one last visit in yesterday, and as out of it as he was, he cocked an ear as he heard my voice, and when I laid my hands on his back, his heart rate and breathing slowed, so I know he knew it was me.

I was hoping for a few more weeks, or months, but in the end, it was all up to him, and he was so, so tired.

He was special, and loved, and Lord knows I gave him the best care I could. He was wonderfully handsome, incredibly photogenic, and reluctantly joined me on road trips across Michigan, exacting his revenge by waking me up at 5am, a good two hours earlier than usual. His last days were a blur of medicine, and monitoring, and I'm feeling guilty for the sense of relief that has washed over me along with my sadness.

It feels odd to publicly air my grief, especially over a cat...but everyone with a pet knows how strong the bond, how difficult to let go when the time comes. It was relatively quick, and that's what we wish for: to not have them suffer, or struggle, and go in peace. Which is what I got.

It's amazing what a big hole such a little animal can leave.

I inadvertently cursed my cat...

I named him Gershwin. It was meant to be an homage, not an omen.

Gershwin on the piano, his favorite spot

He's been an amazing companion, roommate, alarm clock, bed warmer, and siphon of my disposable income with some of his health issues for the past seven years. And worth every penny.

George Gershwin at the piano -- probably his favorite spot, too

George Gershwin died prematurely at the age of 38 of a brain tumor, and my fuzzy friend, at the age of 12 (I think -- he came to me by way of Cleveland as a stray), has just been diagnosed with not one, but two almond-sized tumors, one over each little orange ear.

He's still hangin' in there, but there's no music in the air today, folks.

The best laid plans...

I fully intended to come home from work yesterday and get back into the wonky log cabin groove, but instead was met by this: possibly the most miserable cat ever.

So miserable I had to capture it with my camera, which angered him even more.

So instead happily stitching away with an ear cocked toward bad Monday prime time TV, we spent most of the night at the emergency vet clinic.

He's much better today and very happy to be home, but there was no sewing going on.