The only living creature who ever loved me by choice, my blind albino cat Picket, died this morning. Yesterday was a day like any other, and she was up and about, crawling on my bed, and climbing onto the back of the same chair at which I now sit, rubbing her body against mine. This morning, I woke up to the sound of her crying outside my door. I thought she was just whining because I wouldn't let her in, but it turns out she had suffered a stroke.

She was lying flat on her side, unable to move or walk. She was barely alive, and when I picked her up, she tried to lick my hand one last time. I placed her on my bed, which was as much hers as mine, and within ten minutes, she had breathed her last. I miss her so.