I'm doing double-duty on house-sitting this week, and this morning I discovered Otis had died during the night. He was old and diabetic. Brooke had joked for years that there'd be no hard feelings if I killed their cats while they were out of town. But all the joking didn't make discovering him any easier. I'm one of those lucky people whom Death hasn't touched much at all in my 25 years. But if this is how I react to my cousin's cat, I can only imagine the flood of tears when Death hits closer.