And just like this he’s gone. The cat with whom I shared 14 years of my life, with whom I crossed an ocean, with whom I moved from country to country, from one house to the other to the one that finally felt like home. The cat who had a million of little annoying habits, who always wanted something, who was always somewhere nearby, the cat who owned us more than we owned him. Just like this he’s gone and I am mad at him, because he left at such a dreadful moment, he left into a cold October mist, he left when there are no good news to cheer me. He left without giving me a chance to say good-bye, without telling me he’s leaving. He just went outside and never came back. And now I’m looking at the glass door, trying to make out his black shape and white collar in the dark, where there is just emptiness. His name is Echo and he left without a trace after fourteen years and with all the bad things that happened this autumn, this is almost the worst.