When I came home from work today, someone had posted a personal note above the mailboxes that read in part:
"I don't know if you all know the black cat that's been a regular around our apartment for the past 15 months or so... His name was Rothko... He was run over and killed Sunday morning..."
This is the same cat that'd been hanging around since I first moved in here in the summer of 2010. Making himself at home in lounge chairs. Casually swatting at folks coming up the stairs. Trying on occasion to race me to my apartment so he could sneak in. (I never let him.) Once he climbed up the tree outside my 2nd-floor window and sat there looking at me for nearly an hour while I tried to go about my business, but ended up talking to him: "What's up, Cat? Whatcha lookin' at?" (I felt special that he'd temporarily chosen me.)
I'd always assumed that he was a completely streetwise cat, a survivor, that nothing would ever happen to him...
I am so sorry, Rothko (known to me previously only as "Mr. Sassy"). RIP, Cool Cat.