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Yesterday was Black Cat Appreciation Day.  We have a black cat and per her detailed instructions, every day is Black Cat Appreciation Day at our house.

Maggie’s not the kind of cat you fail to appreciate.  She’d notice, for one thing.  She’s always been vain but now she’s vain and matriarch-ish.  She’s as gentle as the day is long but in command of an iron will.  I’m sorta scared of her. 

You’re just noticing because Chester is gone.

Am not.

Are too.

Ah, Chet.  I used to be quite the worrier and that’s where my focus landed.  I knew Maggie was nothing to worry about but I saw something in Chester so I put my teeth into it.

Recently I reviewed my behavior.  My hands are still numb from wringing ’em over a cat who managed to make it to sixteen with only the usual glitches. What the hell was that about? 

I had that thought last spring and then he died.  Maggie, she never really mourned Chet and say, are those party sounds I hear, late in the night?  That girl was meant to run the whole show.  Maybe in her next life she’ll get the chance.

ANYWAY, get out there and adopt a black cat.  They’re laid-back.  They’re elegant.  They’re mysterious.

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