I don't suppose this will matter to anyone but me, but it's my blog so what the hell: My beloved cat Teddy, who liked to sit with me as I wrote this feature and many other things, passed away today after going through kidney failure. He was 13. His loss was not unexpected, but we had hoped that we could prolong his existence and give him a good quality of life for awhile longer. It was not to be.
In the picture at right, you can see him in better times, napping away as I worked on the 2010 Baseball Prospectus annual. You'll note his legs overhanging the keyboard. He was a big cat, and fitting him in was part of the challenge of working with him around, but it was always better to have his company than not--the writer's life is mostly a solitary one, and you can get lost in it. I know that description sounds as if it should be reserved for those working on massive dark novels, but it's equally true of those of us who write about lighter fare; ultimately, it comes down to your sitting here on your own and getting the words down. It is good to have someone who will give you a gentle nudge and remind you that there is life beyond the keyboard and the screen. Sometimes Teddy's nudges could be more emphatic, and if ignored the subtle approach, he would just reach out and tap me on the cheek with a paw.
It has been a hell of a month for me. I've had various medications flipped around so I can't think straight, messed up my back so I can't sit straight, and now I've lost my writer-cat. At least two of those problems should be fixable. The third, alas, is not. Goodbye, pal.