Goodbye, Ted

And it's done. The vet examined Ted's gaunt body and found nothing overtly amiss, except a somewhat enlarged liver. Most likely? There was a tumor hidden in there. So we did what was right and he slipped away softly.

I came home and threw myself into disassembly of his cage complex; a grubby hard job, but an hour and a half later, it's done -- cages cleaned, collapsed, and stored in the basement, bedding bundled up for the trash, floor vacuumed to neatness -- and a dozen-plus cat toys excavated from under the cages where they'd accumulated over the years.

The other cats seemed alternately fascinated and bewildered by it all. I find it strange now, even a bit unsettling, to have so much open space where the cage complex loomed for so long.

Ted was a fine cat, handsome, affectionate, easy-going, occasionally goofy. I'll miss him.

Where the cage complex sat for those four-plus years, there remain deep indentations in the rug.

They may disappear with time. Ted's imprint in my heart will not.