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The orange cat Diggy sits on my shoulders

Diggy, my best furry friend of twelve years, passed away this week. He was full of sass, love, energy, mischief, curiosity, and affection, and will be deeply missed.

Diggy was found as a kitten on the streets of Kamloops in 2012, and Leah and I took him in on November 1. As soon as he was out of the carrier, Diggy was wandering around our apartment like he owned the place. Diggy slept on the bed between the two of us the very first night we had him.

Diggy explores the kitchen as soon as he arrives at our apartment
Diggy hides under an easy chair to ambush a knitted toy

Diggy was a cat full of mischief. Under his watch, no bag would be left unoccupied, no nook would stay unexplored, and no paper would remain unchewed. Diggy zoomed around as a kitten, usually ending with a parkour climb up our bathroom door jamb and once leaving me to shower in the dark after he caught the light switch on the way down. Diggy slowed down later in life but was no less of a brat, climbing on counters, getting water all over his face, and yowling at night to report he had found his favourite toy.

Diggy peeks out from between the tops of a collection of math books and the bottom of the next shelf up
Diggy pokes his head out of our canvas shopping bags
Diggy looks quite pleased with himself with a face full of tap water dripping from his whiskers
Diggy bats at a stream of water coming from the tap
Diggy hides his head in a box of Kleenex
Diggy wraps his head in the handle of a shiny pink bag
Diggy serves as a lifeguard sitting on the edge of a full bath
Diggy makes himself comfortable in a reusable shopping bag
Diggy peers down from between the top of the cupboards and the ceiling
Diggy looks up to the sky while exploring the deck
Diggy looks up from the narrow space between the couch and the wall
Diggy, entangled with cut-up strips of paper from the recycling, looks at the camera as if to ask: who, me?
Diggy struts over the surface of the kitchen counter
Diggy sticks his head and paws into the tray of a printer
Diggy peeks out from the window side of a set of Venetian blinds
Diggy wiggles around on his back at the base of a scratching post

Cats have their people, and I was Diggy’s person. The two of us were inseparable: first thing in the morning and last thing at night Diggy would hop into the bed to snuggle. If I sat down on the couch to read or play video games, he would force himself onto my chest and nuzzle my face. And any time I called his name, he would trot over with a purr that could be heard across the room.

Diggy lies down on his back like a person, resting on my arm as I play a Nintendo DS on the couch
Diggy stands on my shoulder and licks the back of my head
Diggy is the little spoon with me as we snuggle in bed
Diggy and I share an apparent kiss outside on the deck, as Diggy gets up close and nuzzles my face
Diggy perches on my shoulder with star-shaped lights and a Christmas wreath in the background
Diggy gets up close and nuzzles my nose and cheek as I snuggle him on the couch
Diggy looks at me while we snuggle. The photo is taken from over my shoulder

In 2018 we adopted our second cat, and Diggy became a big brother. Although Diggy and Pazzo were never super close, they were true partners in crime. The two frequently played together: grooming, wrestling, racing down the hall, or batting at one another from different heights of furniture. For a while we kept the office door closed to protect its contents from the cats, but despite our best efforts Diggy would break in and Pazzo would follow to make mischief.

Diggy and Pazzo sleep next to each other on the couch
Diggy and Pazzo lie comfortably on separate levels of a cat tower
Diggy occupies the cat bed in the cubby of a bookshelf, while Pazzo looks at the camera as if to ask me to evict Diggy and let him into the cubby
Diggy and Pazzo share a rare cuddle on the bed
Diggy occupies the cat bed in the bottom left cubby of a bookshelf, while Pazzo looks down from the top right cubby

Diggy was constantly making us laugh and smile. He was a true master of the “blep” technique as shown in the photos below. And his dedication to “flumping” came with it a complete disregard for gravity; he has been known to do an unintentional barrel roll right off a piece of furniture.

Diggy ready to play with his blep on
Diggy stares out the window with his tongue sticking out at Blep Level 1
Diggy leans down with his tongue sticking out at Blep Level 2
Diggy flops over with eyes wide and tongue sticking out at Blep Level 3

All in all, Diggy was an adorable cat, full of sass, love, energy, mischief, curiosity, and affection. He brought Leah and I together as a family and brightened up our lives and our home. Diggy was the first cat I ever had, and I was incredibly lucky to have had such a special relationship with him.

Diggy lies on the doorstep out to the patio
Diggy looks out the window between vertical blinds
Diggy sleeps peacefully on his chair

Dr Robb Fry, one of my professors from my Thompson Rivers University days, passed away earlier this year at far too young an age. Robb was a real character, a great teacher, and a lot of fun to know.

I took my second course in linear algebra with Robb, and it was one of the most entertaining courses of my first two years. While visiting my parents over the holidays, I dug out my course notes — the only full set of notes I ever took in undergrad — so I could share some memorable episodes from my time with him.

Introducing the notation ”∃!”

It means “there exists a unique…” but I always read it like it’s a William Shatner thing. THERE EXISTS!

On terminology

ROBB: An oval…

CLASS: Don’t you mean an ellipse?

ROBB: Yeah, whatever the real term for that is.

On yellow chalk

I’m going to avoid yellow chalk today, because I have a suspicion that one day they’ll find that the stuff that makes it yellow is toxic. That’s going to be someone’s Ph.D. thesis one day, The Toxic Effects of Yellow Chalk, and I don’t want to be part of the study group.

On the kernel (which gets “killed” by a map)

The best bumper sticker I’ve ever seen had a picture of the colonel from KFC with “I am dead.”

On writing

If you’re ever reading a paper, and they say they have to prove a technical lemma, brace yourself for some horrific math.

On stable/invariant sets

I use “invariant” instead of “stable.” A stable set sounds like something for horses. I like horses, mind you, but they shouldn’t be confused with mathematics.

You taught me, inspired me, and motivated me to continue on the path to becoming a mathematician. But more importantly, it was a lot of fun to know you. Thanks, Robb.