Four years ago when we visited our son in Georgia, I bonded with their cat.
I had no intention of doing so. It just happened.
When I'm a visitor in anybody's home, I am usually the first one up in the morning, rising between 5 and 6 A.M. The one resident at my son's house who greeted me each day when I went to the kitchen to make coffee was Possum the Pussycat. I did a blog entry about her back then.
During our visit this year, she and I still had our morning conversations. She's twenty-one years old, hard of hearing, and blind in one eye; but she greeted me politely each day.
We humans discussed, several times, the fact that Possum can't possibly have much time left. At one point I made the mistake of mentioning "Possum" and "death" in the same sentence in the presence of Deb's six-year-old granddaughter, Morgan.
Somebody just shoot me.
Here's a video I made of Morgan in 2007 that I absolutely love. Back then, she didn't know about death; she only wanted to be able to put her pants on all by herself. It's a shame we have to lose our innocence at such a young age.