R.I.P Syd Vicious, the cat

when i picked up syd at the shelter in june of 1995, i didn't know i'd have him until i was almost 36 1/2 years old. like, almost 40.
when i picked up syd, i didn't know we would move three times together and that i would get us out of the ghetto, a place that made us both nervous, and move us into a beautiful apartment with a yard for him to watch birds in.
i didn't know that i would find a way to make a living as an artist one day.
i didn't know that i would find a way to make a living as a writer one day.
i didn't know that i'd get married.
and divorced.
and make two wonderfully-shlocky movies with my friends.
and stay friends with my ex-husband who would cry when my cats died.
i didn't know i would meet guy and have more fun than i ever thought possible, camping in the rain, driving up the coast, going to trader joe's. stupid shit like that. or that syd would make guy, a non-cat person, love a cat.
i had no idea i'd fall in love again.
i didn't know my little sister would get pregnant and marry her long-time boyfriend, a shy man, several years her junior who guy calls "giggles" because he doesn't talk much but giggles a lot.
i never knew i'd become friends with a cincinattian (forgive the spelling) who would reveal syd's masochistic side by slapping his butt over and over and over again much to syd's delight. and then that that friend would get married, move away and have two kids.
when i got syd, i had no idea he would see me through two nervous breakdowns.
i had no idea that syd would ever stop asking for food.
and get skinny when he'd always been such a pig.
i had no idea that syd would stop biting my guests, scaring them. that he would become an old softie and quit being punk rock.
i never could have guessed that he would be so sad after the yeti died, and get sick. and stay sick.

i certainly had no idea that he would die on december 21, 2006.
xoxoxo he's free now.