I don't have any little pink socks myself, but as a symbolic gesture I've buried one of my own socks in my parents' back yard this morning - right next to poor Isabel, who I ran over, and on the other side of Romeo, who I also ran over but with a different vehicle, and below Rodah, who Matt Woo ran over.
I'll never forgive you for running her over Matt Woo. I loved that cat.
He swims. He gnaws. He builds dams. He moves us with his intelligence and grace. He is the Wily Beaver. And he is here to INTUBATE us all.
Sunday, March 20, 2005
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