My grandmother's 14 year old, orange cat Alfie passed away yesterday, after having a massive stroke.

Alfie was a good cat who was friendly (at least to most of our relatives).

He was not 'little' though my grandmother called him 'Little Alfie,' he was about 30 pounds (at least). He adored my grandmother and my late Aunt Arety who both treated him like a king. He was perhaps the luckiest cat in the world to have them as guardians.

Alfie and I had a hot/cold relationship. Sometimes I made fun of him to his face and he'd sort of look at me like I was a jerk. I offered to buy him a 'kitty' treadmill in hopes to get him in better shape. But I also gave him a lot of kind attention, and told him once that 'he looked like he was losing weight.'

He was a cat who loved to eat human food. And threw up A LOT!

My grandmother claimed that he was a very smart cat and could open the screen door to her old house. I used to doubt that, but now thinking about, maybe he could.

Alfie had nice teeth, I don't know if my grandmother brushed them or what, but he had a nice smile.

This is the last photo I took of Alfie in August.

I will miss you Alfie, you little fatty. If there's a kitty heaven, you're certainly up there with Alfie #1, Zeek, RJ, Raisin, Peaches, Sonya, Kitchoo, Tiger, and Whiskers.