It’s so difficult when a cat dies. He leaves a hole in your heart and home and in the pride of cats left behind. The others expect Charlie to return, with his swagger and bullying, and knock them off their sleeping perches or chase them a bit (just to let them know he’s top cat, you know). Last night the others tentatively and tensely slept with us and awaited Charlie’s blows as he settled on his bed. But it is quiet and peaceful. There are no mice left around the cars, no growls or scuttling
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Another Day Without Charlie
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