My leg is cold...

... and my heart is heavy. Poor old Toby went for the Long Sleep today, after more than 18 years as part of our family. Most of them were spent in the bedrooms, after the dog moved in, but for the last three or so years, once he'd decided enough was enough, he's been at my side while I work, mostly here on the sofa in the sun, enjoying the warm air on his neck from the laptop fan. (He was never a laptop fan himself: it was the auld enemy, always hogging the prime position.)

There's no travel connection today, other than his being here for story after story, something soft to stroke when I got stuck, and being the source of the hairs on the keyboard, providing me with yet another displacement activity hooking them out from between the keys. He hated to see me get the suitcase out, but he didn't hold it against me and was always pleased to see me come back.

He was the smoochiest cat I've ever known, and he loved me. I loved him too, and completely forgive him for the time he lay on my chest and dribbled into my open mouth. RIP, Tobes.