She was the hunter, the jumper, the smallest one. She was the first to join me in bed every night. She was the one that sat on my arms when I was at the computer, the reason of all my misspellings on IRC. She was the one that preferred peeing on the bathroom basin than on the litter box. The one completely crazy about getting in the bath after my shower, the one who liked to pour the water out of her drinking dish. The one that purred the loudest, the one that sucked on my clothes, the one that made strange bird noises.

Today I came home from work and bad, terrible, news were there for me. I would have liked to blog about how much certain rubito makes me smile, or the Extremadura Sessions, or any of the wonderful stuff that has happened to me lately.

I was in such a good mood when I arrived home today. Well, I admit I was a bit pissed off. While waiting for a green light to cross the street a stupid pigeon shit on my sweater. But that doesn’t matter anymore, because cats die stupids deaths and Emacs had jumped after another stupid pigeon, from a seventh floor, through a window that was open only because the lady that cleans my house was doing the laundry I had been to lazy to do myself. Nobody’s fault. But she’s gone. And I loved her. She would have turned one year old in July, but cats die such stupid deaths. She had to jump out of that window and I am so angry I want to shoot every pigeon on the face of earth. I was one day late, I was building screens to protect the windows with, and this was the only screen left. I was going to finish that very window today.