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.: 7.16.2008 


When I went to visit my mom on July 4, she let me know that "Arby" (Ronald Weasley Jones— this became RJ which became RB which became Arby) had gotten hit by truck coming around the curve to their house and hadn't made it. Needless to say I felt guilty as hell because Arby was found outside my house (like Roscoe) and we couldn't take another cat so I asked Mom if she could take him on her little farm and I could pay kitten support. She did. And now he's gone, a mere three or four years old.

Last night I got phone call from my mom while playing Vampire. Sadie, the kitten she got when she had her hysterectomy while I was in high school, had died. Mercifully, it seemed to be of old age (she was 15), but it was still hard to hear because I had made a point to find her and give her some attention on the Fourth. She seemed fine. Pissed off, but fine, but she's been pissed off since mom married the monkey because he had a head dame cat already. With every new pet introduced into the house since then (especially the five huge dogs), she's gotten more and more sullen and withdrawn. She was pretty much living behind the toilet in the master bathroom for the past year at least. Her life could have been worse, but she was pretty unhappy and I think mom is taking it especially hard because she perhaps hoped she could somehow make it up to Sadie before she died.

Much to the unpleasant surprise of everyone, I cried pretty hard. It was, of course, my turn right when this happened, so my fellow rollplayers had all just focused their attention at me when the waterworks started. Gah. They suddenly all needed to go outside and smoke (even the non-smokers), so I had a chance to get myself back together, but it was still pretty damn awkward. Robyn said, "I didn't know you could cry." Hubby asked me later if I threatened to kill anyone for revealing my weakness. You know, I don't think I remembered to.

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