No more banging on the doors

I miss my Monty.

It's a bit hard to think about him still, so I try not to, but then sometimes, it just hits me that something's missing. Something warm and bright. Like tonight, when it was almost rattie dinnertime (10pm), there was no one banging on the living room sliding doors, no small furry white creature looking up at you with an expectant look on his face when you opened the doors, no one pushing past the door to get to the kitchen to see why dinner wasn't ready yet.