Jo went to bed last night. He had been through a tumultuous last few months. From losing his family out the door, to losing his balance to women on the street, his mind to black mamba. And then his freedom to acute and chronic psychiatric hospitals. He felt like a hamster, running round a wheel. Then he died. I'm not entirely sure what happened. All I know is that he went to sleep last night, and this morning I found him laid on the bed, dead. No one had saved his life. And he had run out of cat's lives.