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Bear is dead. He hasn't been anything resembling "my cat" for more than four years (and he never really was anyone's cat, anyway), but I can't stop crying.

Bear was a big cat, and that's how I'll always be able to remember him. But he was frightened of almost everything, especially people the first time he met them. When I moved in with KT, he wouldn't stay in the same room with me. But we got to know each other, and became good friends. After we moved into the Clinton Gardens apartment, when I'd be on the computer he'd come into this squinchy computer room, hop up onto my lap, and spend hours sitting there, being petted and scratching his cheeks on the rough metal edges of the keyboard tray.

Bear was the smartest cat I'd ever met. He knew how doorknobs worked. He'd stand on his hind legs, and grab the knob with his paws and try to turn it. He never could get a good enough grip on it to turn the knob though. I'd always wanted to glue some yarn or velcro loops to one side of the knob, just so he could succeed at it... but I never did.

He liked to drink the water that dripped out of the tub's faucet, but always got his head wet when he did so. Afterwards, he'd always walk by me, and sit patiently by. When I'd notice him, I'd absently reach out to pet him... and inadvertently wipe most of the water off of his head in one pet, which was why he'd wandered over.

Goodbye, Bear. I'll miss you.

If you read this, send condolences to KT and Kevin, please? As bad as I'm feeling, they're probably worse.

Thanks.