a few days ago, beth went to pick up morphy's ashes from the animal hospital. she called me up at work completely distraught. "i should never have come here alone," she sobbed. it took a couple of minutes for her to regain her composure so that she could drive home.

i can't quite believe that a cat that once took up most of the bed whenever he stretched out now fits into a tiny tin can. 11 years ago, i would've scoffed at the idea of mourning over a cat. but everytime i get home and i instinctively look up at the third floor window expecting to see him, that's how i know i want him back just as much as beth does.

i miss him. a lot.