Hamish was born outside our front door, the runt of the litter with eye infections. Vets thought he would be blind, but a course of antibiotics fixed him right up. For the runt, he grew into a hefty boy we often referred to as Fat Cat. He was smart, and always retained a smidgen of that feral kitten. An open door was not safe, he’d take off, sometimes for months at a time, if we weren’t careful! Plants were not safe around him, either. But he was a personality! He loved people, especially any people willing to love on him. He like to hop on my Teams meetings and greet my workmates, he liked to bonk noses, and was prone to aggressive love bites. He was a lap kitty, a sink kitty, and a sunny-spot-on-the-floor kitty. He was also a sit-in-front-of-the-TV-because-you’re-not-paying-attention-to-me kitty. He was a loved kitty, and the world is just much less bright without him in it.