Hey, you never know.
Hey, you never know.
I just draw them as they happen.
If you think this is too much, look at what inspired it:
The Fluffy One is 16 today. His bro should be, too. I need to believe he’s around his bro with some cat magic. He’s the sun on his back and the shadow on the ground. Happy birthday, my boys, mommy loves you.
DUN DUN DUN!
I have to admit one month later, I can’t find the bright side of losing my Slinky Son, but I started this year listening to Eric Idle’s audiobook Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life: A Sortabiography. I credit the Pythons for keeping me alive until black cats came into my life, and for the first week of 2019, one spent some time in my ears on those cold mornings when I was horribly aware of what was coming. Did I do my Slinky son justice? Only here in the comic. Would this be what he’d do? Obviously I think this is what he’d do. He was always singing, and sang this more than once over the years. Hell, I want this song played at my funeral.
Hey, he wrote it, on our walks.
I’ve been watching a lot of videos of the Ninja Twins, and my Slinky Son talking his head off. Yay for videos!
The Kitty Can’t Cope Sacks had to have some high-grade magical nip in them, he would lick them all night, sometimes while lying on my head. The sound of his spiky tongue dragging on the nip was the best way to go to sleep. If I had a white noise machine, I’d put the recording I have of his late-night SCRAPE SCRAPE SCRAPE in there and be happy forever.
The Fluffy One is dealing with things.
The Fluffy One has been trying to interest The Puppy in running with him, but she was never a fan of cats running at her, no matter how hopped up on birthday cake she is.
He knows me too well.
This comic strip exists as a love letter to my cats and dogs, and so I owe it to them to keep telling the story, while keeping it as bearable as possible for you all to read. I haven’t wanted to get into my Slinky son’s health beyond what I’ve been sharing, because I have no life-saving advice for anyone, beyond adopt cats and love every minute you have with them. That’s the moral of the whole comic, really. Despite being in perfect health, cancer somehow got to him. He did not smoke, he rarely ate junk food, and was a fitness enthusiast, running miles every day of his near-sixteen years. He leads the way for me all the time, and now is no different.
He was able to enjoy ice cream and walks in the sun right to the end, and he was–and still is–so very loved. That’s all anyone can hope for, isn’t it?
I came up with all the comics you’ll be reading over the next few weeks while walking around with him, while he was still here, aware there’s really only one way out for all of us, but still happy he was with us. If you’ve been reading this comic from the beginning you know no one’s ever really gone, and I’m going to keep it as funny as all this can be because I personally hate those comic strips where the characters get old and die, don’t you?
I wanted to share some photos of him with his bro and his dog sisters, because nothing heals like a load of cat photos. Down at the end is a classic video of him in action with his bro and The Puppy.
Why are you still reading? Go watch that video! Go!