We bin sad, fuck bin laden.

The trip home from La Diego was boring. On the flight to Le Motore Cite I taught a navy girl how to knit. I also finished the first half of my new angora scarf. Beautifool and softee. Bill's flight met up with mine in Mad City and we went home together. Our baby Mojo was so very ill. We couldn't find him for some time, then he turned up laying in a chair on the porch where it was cold. It was too cold for him to be out there. Usually he greets me at the door, maybe with a meow or something to tell me he missed me. After I've been on a trip he's usually pretty psychotic about getting luvs as soon as I arrive.
He looked so skinny and seemed so tired. We decided he should see a vet asap in the morning (this was late late Friday night), and since I was scheduled to volunteer, Bill offered to take him.
Le Mojinator turned out to have a terminal case of kidney failure. He died in our arms. It was a very peaceful death and he went out purring like mad. The vet said that the dose of anesthesia would make him sleep and then stop his heart within seconds. It did. Poor Mojo. I sure loved that little guy. He was so affectionate- almost like a dog. He slept with me every single night and was more loyal than most boyfriends I've had. He was always by my side when I'd get sick, and never stayed mad for long except once when I moved into a new place he was ticked off for two days before he forgave me.

So everyone is weeping and wailing and politicking about 9-11 and I can only think about how much I miss my little guy. I'll post a picture when I get one scanned in. I recently took some of both Mojo and Xerox so I just have to get them squared away.

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"Democrats are sexy. Whoever heard of a good piece of elephant?"