So, it turns out, my cat is dying.
This isn’t big in the way of surprises – he’s 18 years old – but it is hard nonetheless: I’ve known him for 17 of those years, and he’s been my companion for 16. There aren’t many people I’ve known as long, and I include on this list most of my family. (We’d been cheerfully estranged for many years, then started reconnecting for various reasons, with the final train-wreck coming in the form of FaceBook. Classic “don’t do it, wuss.”)