In other news, my cat died. I adopted Monroe and Jackson on a whim as youngish cats from a pet-adoption outfit that operated from a park near my NYC apartment. I quickly realized it wasn’t fair to keep cats in a studio apartment when I was never around, and sent them to the paradise of my parents’ place in suburban Virginia. Monroe was all-black, with long, elegant feline lines. He was mild-mannered and sweet-tempered, so we were shocked to learn — once he was loosed on the backyard — that he was absolute hell on birds, mice, and baby moles, especially baby moles. He was a good friend and will be missed. A sketch below.