So called because he used to sit waiting for us by the glass panel next to the front door, and his silhouette was batman to a tee. It was very sudden, one day his normal Mr Shouty pants, the next weeing blood, he had a massive bladder tumour, and he's gone. Both me and DP are in bits, a year ago our lives were blessed with three furry boys who have brought such joy and love (and the occasional dead rabbit, ornamental goldfish ...) for 17 years, and over the last 12 months we've lost them all.
When we lost jake and Dylan, mr shouty pants (or zeb to give him his proper name) was beside himself and we poured everything into looking after him, and he has left such a hole. The house is so empty, DP couldn't eat his Sunday roast because it just hit him that zeb wasn't there to share it and wouldn't be again. I know, we're a pair of utter softies but no point in having them and not loving them is there?
Sorry this is a rambly post, but I'm hoping that people on here will understand how much losing them hurts and have some wise words to help us through this.