Except I wasn’t ever alone. I was with Binky. The day after he passed, I sat down to try to revise the next big action scene in my current book and it was just so damn quiet.

Binky was loud. Even when he was asleep. Loud and big and he filled any and every space he was in. So now, I’m sitting in the living room in my usual spot, but there’s no big, loud, amazing creature taking up space next to me. Lying on my feet or against my hip. No Binky paws to squeeze when I stop typing. No round belly to rub.

John offered to stay up with me. He was exhausted, and he still would have stayed up if I hadn’t told him to go to bed. Hell, I probably would have just gone to bed if I’d remembered to take my sleeping pills before that last episode of 30 Rock.

Binky was more than a cat. He was a presence. He had a soul. One that wasn’t cat or dog or human, but something more. Something special. He knew what you needed when you needed it. And he knew when all he had to do was sleep quietly at your side.

And because I needed something to make me smile (and cry) after all of that, I’m going to share something special. Please note that I haven’t sung professionally in almost 30 years, and I’m quite pitchy now. Or was four+ years ago when this video was taken. Also, I have never taken actual guitar lessons beyond using an app to try to teach myself. So please don’t judge.