I am heartbroken to share that my little black cat Poe (8/17/02—07/21/20), just shy of 18, has passed.

Poe was the runt of his litter, and an ex and I rescued him from a filthy house in which he was sleeping in an oven when he was just eight weeks old. We’d already chosen the name Poe, even though the lady called him Sam. We got to the house, and he was nowhere to be found (there were like 100 cats). Tom called “Poe” and he came right to us. For the rest of his life, he always came running when I called his name.

Poe clearly thinks the platter of Thanksgiving turkey is for him. November, 2005.

Poe was extremely intelligent, and a bit of a wisecracker—there were times I could almost see him rolling his eyes at his less-than-bright brother, Mikey. He loved his bacon, and at Thanksgiving, he was constantly sitting in an empty seat and trying to get at the turkey. He also loved cream cheese (I was prepping for a party once, left to use the restroom, came back into the kitchen, and he was rolling around in a giant bowl of it that I’d left on the counter). He also loved vanilla ice cream and frosting.

His favorite toys were a lobster stuffed with catnip, which he completely destroyed in about a week, and a set of three Frankenstein balls, two of which he also completely destroyed (the third we still have). He understood what Christmas was, was always excited for the Christmas tree, and was down there at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning, waiting to see what Uncle Nathan (or Santa) had put in his stocking. At every party, he trotted around the guests like a host, and even toward the end, when he got frail, he could still leap up on the counters.

Poe’s favorite present–a lobster stuffed with catnip. On his first birthday, August 17, 2003.

Poe didn’t take shit from any of our other cats that have come and gone over the years—in fact, he liked to mess with them on occasion—but he was fiercely protective of the weaker ones. He was actually not very cuddly at all up until the last year or so of his life—he was kind of aloof, but oddly, he liked being where the action was and loved to pose for photos—he saw me with a camera and he pretty much did whatever I wanted him to. I wish so much that he had cuddled in bed with me, but he just wasn’t that kind of cat. He was, though, a very strong guardian. If I was upset, he would always hang around me, or follow me everywhere. He hated the snow (like his Mommy), and he had been known to sip from my wine when I wasn’t looking (or so he thought) when he was younger. He also, when he was a kitten, got a real kick out of knocking my cigarettes off whatever table they were on, though he never had a problem perching right next to my ashtray.

With a name like Poe, he was certainly a literary cat. He loved having his photo taken. Here he is posing with one of Mommy’s favorite books, GHOSTS, in 2007.

He is predeceased by his sisters, Taffy, Muffin, and Kali (LeeLee), and a brother, Barrett. He has already informed his surviving brother, Mikey, that Mikey will get ALL THE THINGS now.

Of all the loves in my life that I’ve lost, I’ll miss you, Poe, the most. You may have been the runt of the litter, but you were a very big light in my sometimes very dark life, and you will always be my little bear.