Last week the great hero-cat Buster got rode out of town on a rail. Granted living with a warrior is not easy. Blood is shed. Relationships can be strained. Frequently, stitches are required. But my mouser is gone and I am sad. The first incident was unfortunate -- Buster attacked another cat. But cats do fight each other. It's their nature. The second incident was also unfortunate. Buster sent a little white dog to the vet hospital but the stupid dog (it's my dog so I can say this) shouldn'ta oughta have chased after that particular cat. I don't care if Buster was sitting on our front walk. The dog should have known she was out classed by a factor of 10. Sadly, Buster left gashes on the arm of the sweet lady who walks the beagle and animal control had enough. Buster was relocated. My peaches got eaten by squirrels no doubt while they were singing ding dong the cat is dead in celebration of their new freedom. Goodbye Buster. I will miss your mad skills even if you were a menace.
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