Eight years ago today, I lost my 17-year old cat, Myrddin Emrys, to lung cancer. He had been everywhere with me. He loved to ride in the car and sit on the side of the tub while I took a shower. He weeded out bad boyfriends and listened while I talked about my dreams, frustrations, goals, loves, and hates. He loved spaghetti and mint chocolate chip ice cream. He was sprayed by a skunk, then went back to try to kick its ass for the insult (yeah, he was sprayed again). He was snotty and proud of himself and knew he was the centre of my universe.
Gods, I miss him. RIP, Merlin.