Tonight, as we four sat at the supper table in the kitchen, we heard the bells of the cat's ball in the dining room.
"Uh, what was THAT?" Scully asked.
"The cat," I shrugged.
"Uh, the cat's right HERE."
There she was, curled up on the bench beside him. Since we have no other animals, I got up and walked to the door of the dining room and peered inside. Nothing.
"I've been seeing a lot of cat ghosts recently. A lot," said Scully.
Our two cats died about four years ago and we continue to see them around. But Scully . . . He's come a LONG way since we first met. (Hence, the nickname.)
Saturday, September 12, 2009
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