I lost my best friend yesterday. We don't know what happened to him, or how. My family called him Figaro. I didn't call him that; I didn't feel like that was his name. I gave him no name. To me, he was simply my greatest pal, my daily companion.Everyone agreed that he was the sweetest cat ever. I found him strange also. He let everyone and anyone pet him. He would let me pet his ears and his paw and his legs, without a care. That cat let you do anything to him. He'd just lay there and enjoy the physical attention.
He and I had a connection that I've never had with anyone, human or otherwise. We clicked in such a natural way, as, often, words weren't even necessary for me to utter (as though he could understand me anyway). Our energies were similar, our characteristics were similar. We only ever had one common and repetitive disagreement, when he'd try "jumping" another female cat, even after she was evidently pregnant. But he was a cat and I a human. That was understandable. That cat never held a grudge; with him, neither did I.
