Quimby died in her sleep last night. She was my first potbellied and the one that made me fall in love with pots. Quims was 10 years old. She was the housekeeper for the other pots. She would carry straw around in her mouth and make the bed just right for her and the others. Then she would fuss and make sure everyone was sleeping in the right spot. To her the right spot was her in the center where she would be warmed by everyone else. You were a Good Girl, Quimby, and I'll miss you.