We came home on Sunday night from a visit at my Mom’s house. She left for a trip yesterday and wanted us to board her three cats while she’s away. Our home is now housing five cats.
I woke up for work on Monday morning to find that my beloved opaline gourami, Tony Soprano had been bludgeoned and removed from his bowl and died alone on the slate tile underneath the kitchen bar.
Evidence indicates that a certain long-haired black and grey female by the name of “Fluffy” is the suspect. I’m letting her loose on the count that she was my Dad’s cat.
At 7:45 a.m. Monday Maly and I attended Tony’s funeral service. He was buried in the back yard just below the kitchen window. I gave him a pine cone as a head stone.