When I was still living on West LaGrange in Lake Charles, my daughter, Kathryn gave me her white tomcat.
We already liked each other, as I'd always razzeled him when I visited Kathryn.
I was ever so glad to get him as he turned out to be an excellent psychotherapist. He had a sympathetic expression as I regaled him with my gripes about my awful management team and customer snatching fellow brokers at our stock exchange office. His soft "mummmm" was a consoling response--like I feel your pain and how does that make your feel?
When he got into battles with other local tomcats, I threw pebbles and dead limbs at his rivals to be of assistance. He would come back from the battleground and rub my pants leg in gratitude. We were steady "Good Buddies" of the evening and on weekends and holidays.
Sugarboy enjoyed eating nice, fat, crunchy, flying bugs. His favorite collection place was the streetlight in front of our driveway.
It was a fatal fondness. One morning I gathered him up after he' been fatally struck by a motorist. I turned into this nine year old---weeping for my lost friend...
