On Thursday, July 3, our bold, demanding, and fiercely loyal companion of the last eight years passed away. We buried Figaro the next day in a park next to a waterfall (he liked the sound of running water, and always wanted to be with us when we were washing dishes or taking a bath).
He loved to preen us and our clothes, and nestle in our hands as we watched Bollywood. (Of course, it was our job to massage his pinfeathers and to make sure he got his daily almond on time—and if we didn't do our jobs properly he made sure that we heard about it.)
Figaro's absence leaves us with a sad void in our lives. He is very much missed; farewell, buddy.