Hey, don’t yell at me. I’m only the messenger.
Reminds me of a story: When I was a kid growing up in Indiana, we had a little orange cat we called Sunshine. I tried to be Sunshine’s friend, but he didn’t want that. He wanted to use his claws. Still, I liked him. I didn’t love him, like I loved my dog Sam, but I liked him.
One winter’s day, my mom and dad told me Sunshine had run off. I never saw him again. I missed little Sunshine, but from then on I was a dog person.
About 15 years later, at a big Thanksgiving dinner with several families gathered together, the topic of conversation came around to pets. Somebody mentioned that their family dog had been killed, got hit by a car, and they had to tell the kids that he’d run away.
“That happened to us too,” said my dad. “I started up my car to go to work one morning, middle of winter, and the cat had crawled up onto the engine block to get warm. What a mess!”
Everybody but me.
(Hat tip: Ace)