One of the ... good (?) ... things about knowing that Harriet was going to die was that I was able to plan ahead and choose a new cat to share my life with.
I actually had several chosen, at different times, that have all gotten adopted and then, when Harriet went to the bridge, I had "Lera".
He'd been at the shelter since April and I don't think I'd shown him once. He was a giant tom cat (he's long neutered now!) who had a serious problem with humping. He once molested a poor june bug to death.
His face shows the scars of a life lived out on the streets and frankly, he's fortunate he never got FIV/FeLV or killed.
He has giant tom cat cheeks and torn ears. He's a brown tabby, but he's a classic tabby. (also called "swirled" or "marbled" tabby). He's fat and lumpy.
I don't think he's ever been in a house before, while he's confident, he's unsure of all the things that go with being a house--the footsteps echoing on a wood floor, the TV, vacuum, it's all new to him. He's scared of the dogs--I don't blame him. I'm sure in his previous life he had to be cautious of the dogs. Good things my dogs have been trained by Harriet to be cautiously terrified of cats.
He woke me up the last couple of nights with head-butts and kisses and greets us with his gently "pppeeer ews!" He's a good cat and I'm glad it's him that is here to help with the grieving.
Cash, LT and Soda. And some cats. Cats that are mean.