I lost my cat, India, or kitty as we called her. She was eighteen years old.
Things were sure different when Kitty first came to us. For one thing, Dad was president. Also, we were attacking Iraq.
Just shows you how things can change in the blink of an eye.
I've called Osama and asked him to put off the celebration for three days in honor of Kitty. I think he thought it was a crank call. At least that's what I heard him say. Doesn't he even know that crank telephones went out a long time ago?
Of course, they may still use those in Kenya.
But I'll miss Kitty. Now we can just let the garbage people have the old chair, couch, desk leg and most of my suits and not have to move them to Dallas.
I think we'll bury her next to Mama's favorite little dog, Whats-Her ...