One of our new little ones passed away yesterday. I've always had a soft spot for the underdog.. err.. undercat. He was the smallest of both litters, even with other litter being premature and the vet said there was nothing 'wrong' with him. Always first to my foot, more interested in the love than the food, and always interested in a cuddle, he was our 'Little old man'. He was a lovely little black baby, except for the white sprinkled in his eyebrows and around his mouth, making him look like a little old man (of course). I've spent six weeks now chanting my mantra, "I will not get attached, this kittens are going to other loving homes". It never helps, does it? I had talked my honey into letting us have 'just one more' cat, so the little old man could stay with us. Apparently, it wasn't meant to be. I keep remembering him scaling me so he could hide in my hair when I would sit with them in the bathroom. I have spent the better part of a night and day mentally beating myself senseless, wondering if I missed anything. If there was anything else I could have/should have done. I guess I can just be glad that he was here to brighten our lives as long as he was. He was such a sweetheart and he will be missed though he will always be in my heart.