Expresso, February 2005 – July 2016
Personality? You bet. He loved to play, and would fetch a ball of paper over and over. He would romp around the house making delighted mewing noises, and if a cat toy was available he would chase and bat it ’til it wound up under the sofa. Then he would tell us about this tragedy until we fished it back out.
He loved water. He would stand in his wide, shallow water bowl, splashing and pawing at the water before taking long drinks. His paws were often soaked. He followed me from room to room. Wherever I was, he was there, curled up next to me on the love seat or sofa, stretched out beside my chair.
Every night, when I was sitting on the edge of the bed ready to swing my legs up and under the covers, he would come and stand between my ankles for a good-night skritch. It was a ritual. When I woke in the morning he was laying against my ankles. He hated a closed door if I was on the other side of it; he would cry until it was opened. Then he trotted along with me as I walked to wherever I was going. He was my pal, my buddy, my friend.
But after several months of battling illness, yesterday we had to have our Bengal cat Expresso put to sleep. Good night, sweet prince.