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Published on July 29, 2020

I keep thinking that if we hadn’t moved, maybe he’d still be alive. Midwestern is just as busy as Brook Hill, but it was slightly farther away, outside his normal territory (even though I’d see him venture that far before).

Our beloved Benjen was hit and killed by a car today. A good samaritan found him in the road, moved him to the side, got his collar and found us. I took his little body to the vet where they confirmed what we already suspected.

He was my favorite cat ever. Here’s a list of some of the things I will miss about him:

  • He loved tummy rubs. When he was in the mood, he would roll over in my lap and look up at me expectantly. I rubbed his belly and he would nestle his head in the crook of my arm. If I stopped, he would reach up toward me with his paw for me to resume the rubbing. I thought it was a kitten thing and he would grow out of it, but he never did.
  • He would always ask politely to be let outside, usually with just a glance or a meow or a little nibble to my legs if I didn’t respond quickly enough.
  • He LOVED to be outside. Whenever I’d meet him outdoors, he’d flop down anywhere and everywhere for a tummy rub.
  • He had the sweetest disposition. He got along with all our other cats, and they all had issues with each other. But not Benjen. He was so easygoing and unflappable.
  • I loved the “mask” around his eyes and his coloration. The dark tabby areas and the rest of him white.
  • He slept on top of me almost every night. I laid down and pulled the blanket over me and 9 times out of 10 he was there before I’d even had a chance to settle in.
  • He would let me pick him up and hold him with both his front paws on my right shoulder. He didn’t like being picked up generally, but he let me do it and purred more often than not.

I just want this day to end. I don’t want to think anymore that less than 12 hours ago I petted him after he had a quick snack downstairs. And that he was the first creature I said “Good morning” to when I got up. We’re devastated.

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