On the weekend, my parents called to tell me that my beloved childhood cat Smokey passed away. My heart is truly broken that I will never get to see him again, and that I wasn't there for his last few days or to say goodbye. But I know he is in a better place, and that he is not suffering, and that is all that I can ask for.
 He's been my partner in crime for fifteen years and he is always the first thing I look for when I go home to Waterloo for a visit. It's going to be so weird not seeing him there. But he had a good, long life, full of adventure and love. I'm quite certain that he had used up all nine of his lives.
He once escaped from the house and went missing for 30 days. We looked and looked but couldn't find him. I can't even tell you the overwhelming sense of relief I felt when my neighbour found him starving under a truck and brought him home to me. He was a house cat (although he loved sitting in the grass with his leash) and I thought for sure I had lost him. I am grateful for the extra years we had with him.
Then there was the hilarious time that a stray lookalike imposter tried to take his place:
Smokey's twin now lives with my brother. Smokey was less than amused by this guy.
No one ever said he was a cuddly cat, but he was ours, he was a part of the family. We loved him so much and we will miss him dearly. Rest in peace my sweet little man.
xox
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