This morning I got up early, was in the forum and on Facebook for a while, then fell asleep reclining on the couch. It was the kind of sleep that I woke up from periodically, and where dreams mixed with reality, and I didn't really know whether I was asleep or awake. This happens quite a bit to me in the morning. Anyhow, I woke up to find that Lydia had curled up on my shoulder, with her head against my neck, and was purring loudly. Her sister, Cutie, was on the other shoulder. It was a very pleasant feeling to wake up to; it was comforting, and then I realized the Lydia had died last October. Then I became aware that neither Lydia or Cutie were curled up on my shoulders, or even upstairs. In the twenty-six years that Lydia was with me, I never once woke up to find Lydia lying anywhere near me. I loved her, but she was not the most affectionate cat in the world. Without joking, my first name for her was "Kitty Who Hates Me." Even when she was a kitten, she would be the one cat of four who would hiss at me when I approached the box that her mom had them in. She did have moments of affection but they were never over the top. Later, after I had fallen asleep again, I woke up to hear my wife calling me from downstairs, shouting, "Ken! Cutie is lying on the floor!" Her voice was distressed. Taking that to mean that something had happened to Cutie, I jumped up off the couch to find that my wife was still in bed asleep, and Cutie was downstairs waiting for me to feed her.