Goodbye

What do I even write?
I thought I'd have your furry little chin to scratch for years, yet. That time would mellow out your feisty (read: bite-y) personality, that by the time I had my first kid you'd be a grumpy graying old-timer with some extra pudge, jealous of the attention I'd pay the baby.
I tried to keep you inside for two whole years, keep you an indoor cat, SAFE AT HOME, but you kept running outside and running away from me (remember when you ran off for four days at the new house and I was out there four times a day yelling "Mackaroni! Mack-Mack!" at the top of my lungs until the folks next door must have thought their new neighbors-to-be were crazy? I was so happy when you came back that I took you to the vet for just about every vaccination known to feline-kind. You loved that.) And finally I gave up and you were an outdoor/indoor cat with a dorky reflective collar, and I could tell you were in your predatory glory, skulking through the underbrush and eating every insect under the sun (and the occasional amphibian, too, if I'm not mistaken).
But I knew you were still my little kitten at heart, because every time I was working in my garden you'd run to me from out of the 'wilderness' and be right there tromping on my lettuces and following me over the stream and through the woods--literally. (And people say cats aren't loyal to their owners.)
I'm sorry that I brought back another cat from the shelter, I know you two never ended up getting along. I'm sorry I didn't ever adequately resolve the itch on your head once and for all, and had to continually scratch it every time you came up to me. I'm sorry I didn't feed you the sugary-salty nine lives chunks-and-gravy cat food (which you loved) in the mistaken belief that by feeding you Iams you'd be healthier in the long run.
How was I to know there'd be no long run?
No more glancing up from my laptop (even now I'm still doing it) to see your black shape prowling through the backyard.
No shadow to accompany me in my yardwork.
No one to use my laptop as a pillow and fill the vents with black fur.
...I could go on forever.
I'm going to miss you so much, Mack.