and then there were two.

Friday morning, we had to say a very sudden goodbye to our sweet, beautiful, elegant, dainty, quiet, stubborn, finicky, beloved Basil. Which rhymes with "dazzle," and here's why: he came from a litter of kittens all named after spices, and we thought that was dumb. Being the classy, sophisticated people that we are, we kept the name, but changed the pronunciation; our first cat was, in fact, named after Basil Exposition from the Austin Powers movies. He was my first feline love, and since I'm completely wrecked with this grief--how can he not be here anymore??--I figure the best thing for me to do is to try and give him a proper eulogy here. (And to create something of a centralized record of his time with us, since I will miss him forever and want to remember everything.)

So small, when we first got him...which was right after we got married. He's been with Mike and I for our entire lives together. (That's how I was able to remember his age, always. And also, these first few photos are actually from a film camera, that's how old we are.)

Our one and only lap cat. This was still his favorite place to sit with me: on the belly, curled up in the crook of my arm.

That long, twitchy, expressive tail was his trademark, and it would stick straight up in the air when he was happy (...or up to something...).

Boy, did he love boxes when he was a kitten. He'd hide in this one and take a swat at your foot as you walked by.

He loved playing fetch with balls of crumpled paper, too. When we moved from Pennsylvania to Denver, this is what we found under the couch.

During the move, we'd smuggle Basil into the hotel room at night in Mike's backpack. He was quiet in there, but he'd poke at the seams and probe the bag for weaknesses and escape routes. (Mike also reminded me that Basil was the loudest yowler ever during his time in the moving truck. We'd bought a huge cage for him so that he'd be comfortable during the actual move, but to no avail. Captivity was not for him, and I could hear it every time Mike and I walkie-talkied back and forth. Poor Bas. Poor Mike. That was a long drive.)

Gorgeous and all grown up in the new house in Denver. (No idea why, but if he was awake and looking at you, he'd usually look angry in photos. Or startled. But not really normal.) (On a totally unrelated, note, we discovered in Denver that this cat loved bananas.)

Did I mention that he loved boxes? Once the actual move was over, he had plenty to choose from. (The cat traps are working...)

But where did Basil go...? (He sure liked to check out the insides of bag-type things.)

He loved a good blanket, too. (Sleeping on Mike's legs during video game time.)

 Over said blanket, underneath it, kneading it, didn't matter. Blankie = love.

All tucked in.

Shortly after we got to Denver, along came Ned, who shared his love of sleeping on the chairs under the kitchen table. These two weren't exactly best friends...

...but they had their sweet moments.

A few years later, along came Stewie. Stewie, frankly, was an unholy terror to Basil (and for that I will feel forever guilty), but peace could generally be established on our bed. (Thankfully, once we got Stewie's behavior issues more-or-less under control, we all had a couple of reasonably decent years together.)

Even after the big, traumatic move to Switzerland (here, Basil checking out the new motorcycle saddlebags)...

...our bed was their collective comfort zone. 

Especially if there was a pile of clean laundry on top.

In Switzerland, we discovered that Basil really liked catnip, which was always fun to watch, since the ensuing craziness was such a far cry from his generally mellow personality.

He loved this cubbyhole in the bottom of our bookshelf, too.

This was his hammock on the cat tree. If he wasn't with us on the couch, or crashed out on our bed, he was here. (Occasionally, with company nearby.)

First thing he'd do, every day, when we let him into the bedroom in the morning: flop down on the bed and wait for chin scratchings.

Cozying up with the giant tiger Mike and co. won at the Knabenschiessen carnival one year.

Perky face.

Crashed out next to me on the couch.

Over the years, I think we took fewer and fewer photos of Basil by himself because he wasn't nearly as flamboyantly weird as the other two. Thankfully, our beloved-by-all pet sitter, Paula, was somehow, magically, able to get amazing photos of all of my cats. These are the best of Basil.

He loved a good chin-scratching more than anything else in the world.

Second only to chin scratching was a good brushing.

He'd definitely get all kitteny-mischievous with the feather toys...

...I'm assuming that was what was happening here, too. (I love those giant eyes, all ready to hunt something. And the self-satisfied chop-licking after he'd caught it, or had a snack.)

I have no idea how Paula got this shot, but it goes straight to my heart. (That white eyeliner. Those eyes.)

Finally, my favorite photo of Basil ever, hanging out with us in the basement in Denver. The quality is terrible, since it's from an old old, phone, but somehow this shot just sums him up.

Lovely, sweet face. 

Farewell, sweet kitty. We will miss your squeaky voice and twitchy tail, your shyness and curiosity, and your warmth on our laps. May you forever have paper balls and tuna and catnip aplenty; a soft place to sleep; and someone to scratch your chin whenever you want. We love you.