Alas, my eighty day old cat has finally scurried down the deep dark tunnels of the sewage piping. Kirava had a good life, full of skittles treats and loamy goodness. Perhaps, one day, she may come back to us in that big ocean we call the afterlife, munching on the coral-clouds.
Now all I'm left with is my stinking 117 day old Grucken. -_-;;
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Words of an Aging Soul
Thousands of years of insanity packed into a bunch of pages. What more can be said?
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From one whose heart to the knife is wed
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June Malatesta
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