Wake Me Up When December Ends

Sure, she was old, but this month already blew bad enough without expiring pets jumping on the bandwagon. At least she has a sense of irony--I had finally convinced Terry that it was time to take her in because she looked miserable, so he made an appointment for Friday. Then she started looking even worse, so he called back, and I swear the dang cat quit breathing before they even picked up the phone, so it was kind of a moot point by then. We wrapped her in a towel and buried her behind the shed (shh, don't tell anybody, we're not supposed to do that in the township), and Annie picked out this rock and I scribbled on it. Oh well, I guess it will be less fur clogging up my Dyson.