i miss him. he was a quiet presence, the soul of place, often in the closet or under the desk or the bookcase, or in any one of perhaps 11 boxes, but we always asked where's jaspy, and we always needed to find him just to know. that was the order of things. now we come home wishing to see him so we almost think we will. but we know we won't. not the actual jaspy. at night when i get up i look down the dark hall and he i see the darkness where he would appear like a ghost cat and he doesn't but i think maybe ghosts are visualizations of who we want to see.