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He was a nice cat.

I had one of those calls from the vet yesterday. The gently-phrased ones, that just boil down to "he was a nice cat."

He was a nice cat.

Not actually my cat (both my cats are fine, thank you for worrying!), but he was the office cat, and I was caring for him.

He would sit quietly on my lap as I typed, demanding nothing, but accepting it as his due if I offered something. Food, water, warmth, love: nothing complex. If I got up, he'd climb onto my shoulders and ride around, warming his old bones on my neck. He seemed to like spending time with me, and was curious about the things I did, and would watch carefully, without ever getting in the way or walking on the keyboard.

He was a rare cat in that he understood the human motives behind my actions better than most. He was also an old cat, so maybe it was just experience. Like... if I moved something out the way to provide him passage, perhaps moving my laptop on my desk so that he could get to the other side without walking on my keyboard; he would take the invitation and pass behind the laptop, understanding that I wanted him on the other side of the desk. Other cats would just look at me, or look at the thing I'd moved and go smell it.

And I just noticed something weird.

I used to think that empty-chest feeling of heartache was just a mental thing, rather than an actual physical pain: but lately, when my heart aches, the knuckles on my left hand feel that same kind of empty pain, too: apparently the pain of heartache can travel, just like a real pain.

It's kinda weird, feeling heartache in my knuckles.
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