Oh let me sing his virtues:
He was exceedingly Sharp.
He could occupy an entire queen-sized bed.
When he curled up between your feet or in your lap or in the crook of your knees he had a solid warm physicality impossible to describe, or even to hold in memory, which could only be experienced.
He taught us that the best endearments are literal, like ‘cat’ or ‘human’.
He knew when to walk on you at 5 a.m., not neglecting to stomp your solar plexus, and when to bat at your face.
These things he left us with:
A water fountain, completely ignored.
Catnip toys, ditto.
Bolt cutters, unused. Apparently one only falls and gets locked in the back alley once.