You're all by yourself. Want some company?
I guess. Short Stuff is . . . gone. That little black and white cat?
Xenia. Yes, she's gone. She was old and sick and it was her time.
I know. Sort of.
She hated you--for seven years, she resented every breath you drew.
She'd corner you in the dining room and The Writer would have to separate you two with the vacuum cleaner. Remember?
Short Stuff could run fast.
And you'd tease her by pawing at the other side of the door. Xenia would get such a big tail!
Looked like a Christmas tree! That was fun.
I don't really think Xenia hated you. She was here before you came and she wanted to be top cat.
I know . . . I miss her.
I do too. But she's just a thought away. Any time you remember her, you can be with her again.
I know. I think I want to be alone now.
This post is dedicated to Xenia, December 3, 1993 - December 7, 2009.