I present to you: The Diver.

Wean likes to sleep on the ottoman in the living room. So much so that there is a slightly-larger-than-Wean-sized divot in the middle. A few days ago I folded this extremely fuzzy blanket, which stays on one of the sofas for snuggling, and left it on the ottoman. That upped the ante for Wean, who has barely been able to remove himself from this precious and cozy real estate. A few times each day Greer will cram her snoot in his face to check on him, and sometimes she'll clean his eyes, mouth, and ears while he rests. Otherwise he remains undisturbed.

The variations of Wean's sleeping positions entertain me. They've changed over the years, and photographing him in states of slumber is one of those sleeper (ha ha) projects for me - it was never meant to be a big thing and it has become part of his legacy.

When I reflect on Wean's life, I remember the cat who ran on walls (no joke), climbed curtains, broke furniture, yeowled with surprising resonance, went on walks with the Danes, and viciously attacked my ankles whenever they were exposed. Interesting fact: that's one of the reasons I wear socks almost all the time to this day, even though the threat of attack faded away years ago.

Wean is an institution here. Seeing him sleep in all the gorgeous shapes he makes is like visiting a living museum. It's my time to study him and remember without asking anything of him.

Today he dives into rest, and I admire his precise formation and the added touch of the tail curled around his back legs. For me, this is the cat of cats.