It's a terrible thing to say, I guess, but Barbieri's death has really brought me closer to Mr. Bill. He used to rely on his brother to handle all the interspecies communication he thought was necessary - stuff like "isn't the food ready yet?" and "Why don't you make it stop snowing?" Now, he must ask me these questions himself, and he's decided that he loves sleeping in my bed, which I love too, so we have shared interests. M says, "Mom, the cat is not your best friend." and I say, "Yes he is. Mr. Bill, that orange cat was around here this morning looking for you. You had better be careful if you go outside" and Mr. Bill yawns and stretches out deliciously on my comforter and says "Have you opened a new can of breakfast for me yet?"