Fearless, our 26 pound Maine Coon, lost his battle with lymphoma of the stomach lining yesterday afternoon. In less than 8 weeks, the monstrous disease had robbed him of his formerly strong and majestic looking body with all of his incredibly wild lynx-like beauty. We were holding him as our vet helped him to leave behind what remained of his poor cancer-ravaged body. Despite his suffering, he managed to leave this life with as much courage and dignity as he had lived it all of his ten and a half years.

The painful hole in our lives seems so immutable, now. We miss him in every aspect of our daily routine. This morning Brian missed the comfort of his big furry presence, faithfully serving as the world's best purring companion and armrest while reading the paper. And this afternoon, I could hardly get through the simple task of unloading and putting away my groceries because he was not there, as always, up on the counter, so inexplicably excited to see what all I had brought home. At night, our bed is much less inviting without him being there ahead of us, making sure that the bed is warm and the blanket is covered with just the right amount of cat hair.

Whether stretched out on the coffee table or perched on the back of the sofa, he always surveyed his domain with supreme intelligence and confidence, was devoted to his family, never fearing anyone or anything; he was Fearless.