Hamlet is gone. He was sick for quite some time and much worse lately. Yesterday he couldn’t walk far without falling over. I had been allowing him to go outside in the past month because it seemed to make him happy. This morning he wasn’t outside waiting. I suspect he hid somewhere to die. He was only seven years old. He was the oldest cat who was picked from the Humane Society in Missouri by my son. He traveled from Missouri to California by car in the back seat with Ana, my Great Dane, when I first moved out here. He howled most of the way. He always hated car rides.