Last Monday, my mother's beloved boy breathed his last , surrounded by his pack and his family, at home. Our Solo, who walked down our street and into our lives, lived long, happy years before succumbing to cancer. He was a daddy to all of our strays, and a partner to Amy, Alpha male to her Alpha female, doting father to her protective mother. He taught my Ziggy boy how to be a grown up, and taught Amy how to play, and loved everyone unreservedly. Named by my brother after Han Solo from Star Wars, he never once lived up to his name, with his openness, kindness, and near supernatural ability to be ever underfoot. These last few days, as I laid out to food dishes, absent one that will never be filled again, and walked across the floor without him bumping into my legs, I have missed him so much.