How he used to be bitey-bitey and nip at my elbows or toes when I wasn’t giving him the attention he wanted.
How he was a sound-powered cat and always had to made noise when he jumped in the bathroom sink to get a drink (usually while I was on the toilet).
The attack-cat chittering noises he made towards the birds who dared to come on the balcony.
Being woken up in the morning by him jumping in bed with us, walking over us and wedging himself between Katy and me.
The contented, smug face he’d make when getting a chin scratch at just the right place. Pavel gave good face!!
Generally just walking into a room, rolling your eyes and going “oh, Pavel!” at whatever convoluted and/or obscene position he was sleeping in (see above picture).
How, on a king-sized bed, he’d always sleep on any item of my clothing (usually pj bottoms), or nestled in my body pillow.
How he had a stupidly loud purr for a cat his size, and how Katy would always ask me to “turn down the volume on my cat”.
How he loved to chill on his cardboard scratching pad, in his cardboard box. Even after Tolstoy barfed on it.
How he’d sleep on the sofa arm, as though he was the only thing holding the sofa together.
How he loved to eat anything that was made of rubber or silicone, including a grooming brush, Ben’s wellie boots, Ben’s Ikea nightlights, Ben’s crocs, Ben’s stress popping toy…
How he was a soft, fluffy, furry ball of lovable dumb.
I’m going to miss the hell out of you, buddy…
