I lost the wise old man of my household when Thomas died early Wednesday afternoon. I can’t be sure of how old he was when he came to live with me in 2011, but he was around 17 years old by the time of his death.
Thomas spent most of his life as a very unfriendly cat who didn’t even trust the man who fed him every day for years. That distrust was a reflection of his feral life on the street before he came to me. But the last nine months of his life were almost miraculous.
Since December 2022, Thomas changed a lot. For the first time in his life, he learned to play normal chase games with another cat. He finally would allow me to pick him up without clawing like a wildcat who thought his life was in danger. He even learned to voluntarily spend time with me — and he even learned to relax and purr when I rubbed him.
All these changes happened because Alex came to live with us in December.

This news just in: Aging drug warrior Bill Bennett is still an idiot
Youth and death are bookends pointing toward truth between
To escape hate, turn off media and deal with others in love, kindness
Health risk and social costs make drinking alcohol a very poor risk
I’m looking at myself in mirror and asking difficult questions
Good artists show us what we can’t yet see with our own eyes
UPDATE: No, I really haven’t died; I’ve just lost my sense of purpose