Neil Gaiman has written very eloquently and beautifully about the death of his cat, Zoe.
I had been avoiding reading about Zoe, even though several people had mentioned it to me (people have also been all over mentioning the catorialist to me lately, too). I knew it would make me cry, and of course it did. There’s a cat-shaped hole in my heart right now, and even with various other sad things going on, in the end any crying jag goes back to Jack and how much I miss him.











