You were the greatest cat to ever lick my forehead.Who will greet me by rubbing their scent glands all over my legs every day when I get home from work?
Who will stay up with me after my roommates go to bed at 9:30?
Who will sit beneath my chair on the balcony while I read every evening?
Who will sleep next to me and wake me up every hour by crawling around my head and whining?
Who will leave teeth-marks all over my hands and legs?
Who will jump on my kitchen counters and fall behind the refrigerator?
You are missed, Conner, sorely missed. Even though you were named after a B-List superhero. Even though you look like the Firefox logo when you sleep. Even though you didn't have generative glands. Even though you always tried to run out the door every time I left the house, and succeeded about 68% of the time, and then made me chase you around the North End of Greenville until you got so tired you had to stick your tongue out and pant like a dog.There's an idea. A dog...
(Just to clarify, Conner has not died. He is living with his Grand-Humans for the summer while Joel is working.)
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