For the second time in six months, The Lovely Becky and I have had to put a cat down. This time it was Bugsy, aka Stinky, who contracted pancreatic cancer. He was 14, fairly old in kitty years, but still, we hoped we would have had him for at least a couple more.
Bugsy was a dumpster rescue from Brooklyn, and he always had a bit of a New Yorker's attitude. He took no shit from any cat, and while he would occasionally start trouble, most of the time he just wanted to go about his business without being bothered. He got his Christian name because he was a champion bug chaser in his youth. I gave him his nickname of Stinky because he was also a world-class cat-box-bomb dropper.
When TLB first brought him home, he drove me crazy, both because he was a frequent toe-nibbler and also because he loved to bother our older cat, Bubba. Once Bugsy matured, though, he became an incredibly friendly, unassuming cat, content to sleep and warm laps and never really cause problems.
His unassuming nature made it easy to forget he was around, and yet his absence now is very apparent. He was a good cat and our lives were better because we had him. R.I.P., Stinky.