Tonight we saw a spectacular sunset:
If we went out together and left our windows open, Bertie would sit in one and start yelling his head off as soon as he saw us coming back up the street. We miss that. We're finding more things to miss about him every day. I miss nursing him. I imagine him trying to eat his sympathy bouquet; he would have loved it. We miss Snicky, too, but she had been quiet and withdrawn for a long time before she died. Bertie seemed like his usual self until a couple of weeks ago, and he had an oversized personality for the old guy he was. I miss him waking me up at night: he figured out how to rattle our closet door so it sounded like thunder, making us jump out of our skins. I'd love to hear that one more time.