Oh shuga, you just don’t understand. She’s my
baby. She was there for two miscarriages, car
crashes, when I lost my job, went in the nut house,
came back for tea. She’s never had fur above her nose,
bless her heart, but she always let me kiss that spot.
She always smelled a bit like that, yes. Sure, she
dropped that weight months ago. Oh honey, I don’t
think so. She can’t be… well, ya know. Movin’ on,
so to speak. I’ve had her since she was just a little
runt. She always snuggled between my feet, and she
still squeezes there durin’ a lightnin’ storm. No,
you’re wrong. Just plain wrong. You mixed up the
chart. My baby’s just not ready to die. Besides, you
think I should kill her? That’s not my decision. If the
Lord wants to take her, He can. Bless her poor little heart.
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