On Friday, May 22nd, 2015, Harry Potter succumbed to the Dark Lord.
He was almost three years old.
His intestines had folded in on themselves due to one of three types of incurable cancer.
The Dark Lord claimed him.
Harry was a love slut.
The most affectionate kitten out of two litters of kittens I fostered the spring my mother was dying, he endangered my writing efforts by his need for endless cuddles.
He was convinced I had it all wrong
that the real use for my fingers
was not for tapping the little black things
that made the clicking noises
for which he had
He is survived by his littermates Katniss and George Weasley, and lattermates, Mo, Bart, Boddicea, Jojo, Nancy Mew, Hercule Purrot, Brendan 2.0, and Gilda.
Catopia will never be the same without his sweet nature. He was friend to feline and human alike.
His last day was spent in the hands of people, new and old, who loved his affectionate nature. In our final hour together, we were never physically apart.
He died peacefully, high as a kite, attended by Dr. Stiglich, Dr. Peters, and me.
I do not understand why such a sweet spirit came and went so quickly.