Like this:

I miss you, Jenkins. You were so cuddly. And random. And you always ALWAYS made me laugh, every single day. You were the best cat I’ve ever met. I’ll miss the way you so coolly would lie down in front of anyone with this “Yeah, I’m here. What of it?” attitude. I know that’s what you wanted us to read from that pose. But deep down I know you were just too lazy to remain standing or even sitting. Tubby Tonkins. I’ll miss your blatant affection when you were hungry. I’ll miss your random early morning purring and snuggles. And how you’d just as flippantly get bored of rubbing your face against mine and then walk all over me as if I was your own private runway.

I’ll miss waking in the middle of the night and seeing you there, curled up in your prawn position on my bed, purring away. You bought me instantaneous peace from what would otherwise be some awful, disorientating, anxiety riddled nightmare. I had to pat you while you were sleeping. Sometimes, you’d stretch into the pat, you seemed to think “Yeah! This is GOOD!” but I always patted you too much and within seconds your peaceful slumber would be over and you’d start biting the shit out of my hand. Good times! You never came to bed with me, but you’d always end up there, in your own time. Jenkins was his own man. He didn’t play by anyone’s rules. Not even his own.

I’ll miss you being a little shit, running outside JUST as I was readying the dogs for a walk and I’d have to spend twenty minutes chasing you, catching you and locking you inside. I’ll miss your heavy little foot steps. I’ll miss patting your jubbly bits (my affectionate name for the fat that hung between his belly and hind legs).

I’ll miss that bizarre, arrhythmic knocking that would follow you down the hall. I’ll miss turning around to find you raping that sex toy, something you seemed to enjoy most when there was an audience. I’ll miss the frustrated cries you had when you couldn’t position yourself right on it. I’ll miss laughing my ass off at your weirdness and the look on your face that seemed to say “DON’T LOOK AT ME!!!”.

I’ll miss all my friends and strangers reactions to you when they’d pick you up “He’s SO cuddly!” and not just cuddly, but submissive. Floppy. Unless you wanted out, then you’d let us know. I’ll miss how offended you’d look after I’d hit your head because you’d bite me for no apparent reason. You were like a little teenage boy. “WHAT?! What did I do?! I HATE YOU!”. I’ll miss your crying, “Guys? … GUYS?!! … GUUUUYS!!!” – It sounded so important. And so whiney. And then as soon as we’d give you our attention you were too cool for it. You’d leave the room, go out to the courtyard and start your whining again.

I’ll miss your crazy hour. 11pm. Particularly insane when Ed Harcourt would be over. I’ll miss you flirting with Zoe. I’ll miss you sitting and shaking paws for food. You were SO smart! It took you less than two minutes to learn that. I’ll miss how offended you’d look when you offered your paw. “Really?! C’MON! We do this EVERY time! Just, f*ckin’ feed me already, I’m hungy, bitch!” I’ll miss your cuddles under the blanket on the outside couch, on a summery afternoon. Those were the most genuine cuddles. You loved them. Not because you wanted food. You just seemed to want my company. Maybe warmth and comfort as well. But you’d come running from where you were to be with me on that couch.

I’ll miss you coming to lie, and cuddle up on my hands when I’d be typing. It was always welcome even though you were a total hindrance and managed to fall asleep with random limbs on the keyboard and your head on the space bar. I’ll miss your fascination with being in things. Particularly brown paper bags. I have a fond memory that I’ll have forever of you spending fifteen minutes figuring out how to get into this one brown paper bag. So elusive, it seemed. Until you figured it out. You sat in there, with a look on your face that so perfectly said “I am IN a brown paper bag.”

I’ll miss all your insane little behaviors. I’ll miss your love of eating birds in their entirety and feeling your super tight fat tummy. I’ll miss your sleepy eyes. Your adorable little face, all blinky and sweet when I’d come home from work. You obviously would’ve just woken up and you’d stumble out of wherever, looking up at me with tiny slits for pupils and an expression that seemed to say “Suz … ‘sup?” – Too cool for me, you were Jenkins. Maybe that’s why you’re somewhere else now. I loved your company when I had it. And I feel grateful for having known you at all. I’ll miss you forever. My little squirty.

Jenkin’s Song:

Who’s the littlest guy I know?
Jenkins! Jenkins!
Who’s the littlest guy I know?
Jenkins! Jenkins!
He’s so sweet,
He’s got feet,
He bites sometimes,
But not very hard.
Who’s the littlest guy I know?
Jenkins, Jen-kins!