Merp was my cat.  We named him Merp because that was the first sound I ever heard him make.  It was the last sound I heard him make, as well.

He died in my arms about fifteen minutes ago. 

I'm not sure what happened.  He's been sort of lethargic the last few days.  I thought it was just standard cat it's-fucking-cold-outside-i'll-just-sleep-instead behavior.  Obviously I was wrong.

He slept with me on the couch last night, curled up next to me.  About twenty-five minutes ago he woke me up, crying like he was in pain.  He couldn't move much.  I carried him over to the computer and he laid on my lap while I googled emergency veterinary services here in BFE.  Multiple calls to competent, caring, friendly sounding voicemail inboxes.  Nothing open on a Sunday. I didn't panic, because they trained me not to.

Then he quit breathing.  I wrapped him in a towel and put him inside a contractor bag.  I'll bury him tonight, at my ex wife's place. 

He was her cat too, for a long time.  And she's got a shovel.

Today is broken; I'd like to return it, but I didn't keep the receipt.

I'm so fucking sad it's hard to breathe.