Sunday. Still reeling. I thought Dad was going to pull through.
Chronic kidney disease. He should have adopted a better household. The Fulbrights are lousy cat-minders. They gave him way too much red tuna. That shit’s bad for you.
Why don’t they have kidney transplants for cats? Or dialysis?
Shit.
A few months ago Dad suggested that we go mousing down by the river. Just for fun, of course, we don’t eat the little fuckers. Mousing in town is off-limits because, you know, we have that treaty with the Mouse King. Mice down by the river are fair game, you just have to contend with the feral skanks that live there.
Anyway, I said no. I was “busy.” Damn. I don’t even remember what I thought I had to do. I should have said yes just to humor him.
Well, now he’s gone.
I didn’t even have a chance to say a proper good-bye.
All for now.