It's been more than a month now since we lost of big boy. I'm mostly done sobbing. Which is not to say that I don't tear up almost daily when I think of him. Like when I don't have a cat trying to mooch my breakfast cereal milk or the deli meat while I make myself a sandwich for lunch or the melted ice cream at the bottom of a McFlurry. I miss him when there's not a cat sitting in a chair across the dinner table from me or on the bench behind my chair, tapping my shoulder to remind me that he'd happily take any meat leftovers. I miss finding him in funny places or seeing him curled up under his favorite pine tree in the back yard. I miss him curling up in my lap while I work at the computer or snuggling in as close as possible when I'm relaxing on the couch. And I miss him because his sister misses him and I feel terrible leaving her all alone when I go to bed.
Anyone who says cats don't have big personalities has never met Iroh. He was one of a kind.