When Bert was painting the new bookshelves he upended a sofa to give himself more room to work. Harry de Cat, with his liking for lofty positions, perched himself on top of it. He cast a sharp shadow on the wall behind and I thought it would make a good picture. I didn’t know that I was taking the last picture of Harry that I’d ever take. And, last night, when Bert fed Harry he didn’t know that would be the last meal he’d ever give him.
*Or the 102nd use 0f a dead cat