A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Four-Hundred-And-Thirty-Five

My brother called earlier today to tell me that his cat is not doing well.  It seems likely that he is going to have to put her down in the next few days, and I know he is understandably devastated.  She is eighteen years old now.  He first got her when he was in college, so she has been with him through his entire whole adult life, more or less.  I can't help but feel he is lucky that she was healthy for as long as she was.  Ulysses was just about to turn four when he passed away.  That was exactly three years ago this Saturday.

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