I just laid down in tropical heat, thinking it'll be bad, because Blixa will turn up at any moment and jump up me.

She could lay anywhere, as long as warmth were provided.

She always performed like that. As though a child had sprawled the fuck out, yet of course better; even though Blixa turned out to be quite predictable to us, she was a pretty individual, fairly independent.

I remember photographing here in the pic above. When her temperature would go from warm to hot, her skin would turn pink, and her veins would stand out. She'd love it.

Then, I would not be able to stand it. I had to smell her and kiss her, which would wake her up for a short while. I really don't think she minded it.

She'd aways purr, just like she'd done as a kitten, and fall asleep again.

I couldn't even start to count how many times we've kissed her over the decade we were (incredibly) fortunate to have her reign over our lives, but it'd have to be in the millions, without exaggeration.

I remember her laying all over my chest, drawing long breaths while sleeping. I'd pet her little body and feel her purring while sleeping. After a while she'd wake up, give me a lick, wobble up, yawn, stretch her front legs first, the her back ones, and then hop off to drink or eat.

I love you, Blixa.