I haven't written about my cat. I know I'm a guy and I'm supposed to like dogs, not cats, but who cares? I was writing that with a sarcastic, blank stare. Anyway, I have a cat named Sam. We brought him home in the summer of 1996. He and Gig keep me company when no one is around, or when I go fishing. Sam will follow me to the lake and wait around for me to catch a fish. I'll toss him a small one sometimes. Not too long ago, though, I caught a fairly large catfish. I thought, what the heck, I'll give it to him. He ate the entire thing. I mean everything except a few pieces of bone. It took him a long time to go through it. It was pretty disgusting at some points down the fish, if not interesting.

So, Sam is getting close to four years old now. Why am I writing about my cat? Because I love my animals, and I want to preserve every sort of memory, not just those 'appropriate for the Internet.' He's very large and catches all sorts of animals. I found duck feet once.

Gig isn't the puppy he used to be. He's ten years old, now. I hope he lives to be fifteen, at least. He may; he's in good health. Whenever I get a scanner or camera I'll put up a couple pictures for the half dozen of you who actually look at the things I write.