When the third cat went missing, I didn't care and didn't look. Previous experience, his habits, told me he'd been hit by a car and was dead somewhere. But I didn't even think about my daughter and how it would affect her. I didn't think about how cold I must have seemed. Was. Because his death/disappearance was a convenience... I didn't want three cats anymore. And now I didn't.
Songs about a cat named Virtue, sung by the Weakerthans, wrench my heart and bring me to tears, but poor B... he got nothing from me, while my girl wrote notes to an invisible fairy and asked he be given a second chance.
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