My cat, Mr. Jones.

Today I lost a good friend. He went out, sleeping comfotably in a patch of sun on his favorite blanket on our bed. I tried to bring him back for a few minutes, speed dialed the vet and finally let him go. After holding him for a good ten minutes, somewhere between choked up and mauled, my wife came home. We both came apart at the seams for a while after that.

We wrapped him in a blanket with his favorite things and then brought him to the funeral home. It's so much more personal when you have to carry the body in your hands and then drive your departed to their final place.

When we brought him to the cremation/internment building, we took one last minute to say goodbye. Knowing that it was my last time with him, I let my hands find familiar places and memories come crashing down. I had cried my heart out so many times in those hours, I didn't think there was anything left. But somehow there was more. I cried myself dry yesterday. I've only felt such severe grief 2-3 times in my life.

It's a testament to how much I loved that little guy.

I will never forget you Jones. You were blood. Goodbye old friend.

Note. I spewed this out yesterday on my phone while I was between locations. I needed to get it out. I took some time to rewrite a few parts and put myself back into the story if you will.