Spot was my boy, he would sit above me on the stairs while I worked and distract me by wanting to play. He "knew" when I wanted a drink before I did and would escort me into the kitchen in order to get a bowl of milk at the same time.
We rarely had a lie in, as Spot would decide that brekkie was in order and would do his upmost to get us out of bed, little sod!
He liked just about anything that I ate, including boiled eggs and soliders, roast chicken, quorn chicken, potatoes and cake mix!
We were brought together by my sister, when her cat had kittens and he was the runt of the family and the one that no-one else wanted. "Merry Christmas" was our introduction to him and "good night, I love you" was our goodbyes, he passed away in his sleep.
It's only been three days, but the pain is emense. Everytime I walk into the kitchen, I expect to see him following me in and parking himself in front of the fridge, waiting but he's not there.
I miss him,so much.