Until this morning, I had a cat who was 11 years old, named Hank. We never called him Hank, though. We called him everything else, but not usually Hank. Hanky, Hanky-Pants. Henry. Henry James. Henry James Pants. HJP.
Truly, he was the best cat I’ve ever owned. And I’m sitting here in a river of my own tears because I was too stupid and cheap to get him vaccinated for Feline Leukemia and FIV.
And worse than that, we have two other cats who probably have the virus as well. It’s incurable, like AIDS, and weakens the immune system greatly. The saddest thing to me, is that Clarence is Rob’s cat, and Pookie is Mindy’s cat. I barely have the heart to tell them that their cats have to be put down soon.
