Little kitten, you never learned to meow properly in the short time we had you. You made weird, half-assed cat noises, now it is very, very quiet at meal times. I will miss coming home to find you sleeping on the end of my bed, or sometimes to find your poo on my bedroom floor. I will miss how easily wound up you were, and the scratches you gave me from constantly messing with you. I will miss your occasional angsty behaviour, and how you were dumb enough to try and assert your dominance over the grey-hound. That did not go down well, but as a friend of mine said "No wonder he's an angry shit all the time, he has no balls. I would be the same if mine were removed." And Tino, I know that is one hundred percent true, you were probably angsty and mean sometimes, misbehaving because you had no balls.
I'll miss how you would sit right outside the toilet door and wait for us, doing your half-assed meow to remind us you were still here, or how you would want to follow us into the bathroom and watch us shower like a little creep. I'll even miss that one time you got into my laundry basket and sniffed my underwear. Sick!
You were a little weirdo, but you fit in perfectly with our weird family. You were the perfect cat for the 'little hooman' I live with. And even though big sister Elizabeth Taylor pretends otherwise, she really does miss you, bud.
So, rest in peace, Rudolph Valentino, may you walk into glass doors and chase your own tail, in heaven.
February 2017-September 2017