the cat is out of the bag

if i was draped in lox and dusted in cat nip, tito and boone would still be indifferent to me. yet, all i had to do was quietly step over the jackson's threshold and their gentleman cat, basil, would wake from a sound sleep, crawl from his cozy kitty bed (or choice spot in the sun) and pad slowly over to greet me. now that he has passed away, will this silent bond endure? do we have a psychic link that will connect us across the ether? i like to think so. although, he could have been just looking for the sour cream i would bring for him whenever i was cat-sitting.