RIP to my pal Barry’s cat Jimmy, passed on at 16. The gregarious Jimmy had a habit, when I was sitting on Barry’s couch, of gripping my head and licking the very top of my bald pate. Barry would scold him for it, but he would ignore him and continue. I didn’t mind. Jimmy was one of the more seriously cool cats I’ve ever met.
Be seeing you, Jimmy. If you ever feel like blessing me with a cosmic head-lick from above, go for it.
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