My cat is the best listener. 

An incredible little guy, in fact, the sweetest boy. That's what I call him the most. Wilco was a pretty great choice from my sister, but nothing quite stuck in my heart like the sweetest boy. Sometimes I elongate that final syllable and make it sound like "boi," only because he is just that cute. But a gentleman, mind you. If he only had the strength and the opposable thumbs, you bet he would have pulled out the chair for you and offered to don your coat.

Sure, he has his moments of chasing his own tail and often finds himself conflicted on whether to leave any litter inside the box. But, he is only 8. Well, nearly 9, now. So in cat years, he's only just beginning a career, but still effortlessly distinguished. He knows what he wants and how to get it. He won't take anything for free except lap space, but for even that free real estate he would be sure to ask politely with a few grey taps on our legs. Waiting for us to eagerly slap our thighs red and repeatedly say, "Come on, Wilco. Come on up. You're the sweetest boy, c'mere."

And that would do it; that's all it took. He is the best listener, that cat. His tiny, soft, maple syrup-scented ears were always on a swivel, listening to his family's every movement. Every open door is an opportunity for him to explore, and explore he would if only we weren't so quick to tell him: "Wilco, nooo. Out there is the real world, sweet boy. You wouldn't last a day without us, and we wouldn't last a day without you, honey."

He would quickly lower to the ground, turn his ears towards us and walk away from the door. OH! And the treats! Gosh, he could hear that bag rustling from miles away- we assume, as obviously, we wouldn't dare let him get that far from us. My sister even told him how to give high-fives, and he listened intently, not missing a word. She now looks right at him, right in his big, precious yellow eyes.

Salmon or tuna-flavoured treat in hand and tells him: "High-five, Wilco," and he listens, raising his little, pink toe-beans as high as he can go and taps her loving hand. Knowing there's a little treat in the other. But he won't eat it from her hand, no. He's a gentleman, after all. He waits until she drops it on the ground, and he takes his time, savouring every nibble.

One of my personal favourites, of course. Would have to be when we play fetch. It began with plastic bottle caps and soon morphed into an elastic band, and we would flick them across the room for him to run after, roll all over it and attempt to decimate with his back claws. All the while encouraging him: "You get it, Wilco, you get it. Did ya kill it?" Then he'd bring it back to us - well, close to us, anyway. Always a few steps from us, but we just thought it was his way of showing how distinguished he was. He didn't want us to get anything for free, either. Of course, he ended the game by making sure he knew what a good boy he is.

And we knew he listened to us.

He has what we call squishy eyes, and among so many adorable features of this sweetest boy, this was by far and away top 3. Anything we say to him, be it when I'm filling my bottle, and I ask if he wants an ice cube. He'll look up at me and squint his little yellow eyes at me. He wants that ice cube. We'll just look over at him during a movie and tell him: "Who's the handsomest boy?" And he answers with those squishy eyes. But for the many moments where he's tuckered out and buried his head under a blanket or under his paws, he wouldn't dare ignore his family. His tail has a mind of its own, and will always make sure to tell us he listened to our voices.

For all the love we showered him with during his 8, almost 9 years. There will always be a statement I don't think I told him enough. He is such a great listener, this cat. My sweetest boy, I didn't think I would have had to say it a lot, y'know? Through all the many "we love you's," and "you're the bestest boy," he told us he heard it. But maybe that was because we said it so much?

I will carry this with me for the rest of my days. The one thing I must not have told him enough was when I would bend down to cup his head in my hands and look him in his eyes. "You have to outlive me, Wilco. I don't want to see a world without you, okay? You're my boy, and I love you."

That was the one thing he did not listen to.

I really needed you to listen to that one.

Goodbye, Wilco Bean. We love you.