Tommy loved this blanket,

and we buried him with it in August 2015, in our backyard, with wind chimes and woodland wildflowers and the pond with the frogs nearby. He loved walking the perimeter and seeing/hearing the plop, plop, plop of frogs all the way around the pond.

He loved rolling in dirt, dried grass, and hay,

and playing sentry, guardian of the driveway and all seven acres,

and he never, ever let Bobi the Bad get the upper hand (paw).

In a fit of envy, Bobi once tried to channel Tommy's cool:

Sorry, Bobi.

Nobody (except Hive account@grapthar's Blaze) can rival my old ginger tom for cool!

Tom-Tom, I miss you, my old friend