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The Kitty Angel of Death

Updated: Mar 12, 2019

A lot of my cats died tragic deaths. Don't get me wrong, I've always been fascinated by them and love them very much. I can't help feeling guilty that I have some supernatural control over them, though. My husband says that there is a chemical in their feces that forces us to love them. Read more at this website:

Tiger- He was my first cat. This big orange tom would be out for several days propagating his species. Once he came back with a hole in his ear and my dad said that we should put an earring in it. The next time he returned, one of his legs was nearly ripped off. He never came home after that...

Leon- This poor little white Persian kitten did not live a very long life. Our chow-chow dag named Leo got out of his cage and brutally attacked Leon and punctured his lung. Leo had a personal vendetta with cats after Tiger had swooped down from the oak tree and scratched him on the eyeball.

George- George was white with black spots and lived out on the farm on Hogeye Rd. He got caught up in the hay baler one day and was never seen again.

Bob- He was pretty street smart, but that did not protect him from the eagle that swooped down and took him away.

Bob II- Bob II got eaten by a coyote when we lived in Tucson, Arizona. Fortunately, our other cat who lived on our roof (appropriately named "Shingles") lived a long life. She refused to moved with us to Phoenix and so the next homeowner was very mad that he had to be responsible for this cat. We even had a room reserved for him at a pet resort in Paradise Valley along with our dog named Sassy. They had a bone-shaped swimming pool and color TVs there. Why in the world would dogs need their own color tvs? After all they are color blind!

Mr. Fuzz- He was a very pretty long-haired orange & white cat. One day he went outside like he normally did, but I had an overwhelming feeling that he'd never come back and he never did. Mr. Fuzz may have been "cat"napped since we were having a yard sale that day and lots of strangers were hanging out there.

Lucky- Poor Lucky. I didn't name him appropriately, because he was later found flat as a pancake on Backus Road and my dad scraped him up in that hot August sun to give him a proper burial, but he had to wear a gas mask and was still gagging.

Spot- Spot was Amy's Queen's family's cat. They gave her to me when she was 1 years old after they had her declawed, because she like ripping the flesh off of people's arms. She died from second-hand smoke, because she preferred hanging out in the man cave where my dad smoked. My dad died from lung cancer later.

"Kitty" & "Foxy".

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