Little O. One in a litter of five, the only kitten who survived beyond three days.
The cat that would hiss at us one moment, yet would snuggle close moments later - expecting to be pet.
Just realized earlier today, that at age nineteen our kitty cat called Little O, but more often simply The Cat, has been witness to, and companion of, Barb and I for nearly half our marriage.
He died at 11 PM tonight, with Barb and I both stroking his fur as he took his last breath on earth.
As a cat, he could be, and often was, a royal pain in the ass. He could, strangely, also be a devoted companion.
God help me, never thought I would say this, but... I'm really going to miss our damned cute kitty cat.