Ghosts of Christmas Past, part 7

Here we are sitting in front of our new house in Las Vegas. See the palm tree in the background. Yippee Skippy. (that is sarcasm if you can't tell, I pretty much detest Vegas with every fiber of my being, but that has more to do with a certain little girl not coming with us, than the disgusting gambling and porn that are everywhere you turn.)

At the time we moved our judgement was impaired and so we brought the four stray kittens now full grown cats from our old house that had been born in our garage. (queen of the run on sentence) Just a side not on the move, my mom and I somehow arranged the seating so that the two boys, and four cats rode with my husband in the moving truck. We were left to suffer in silence in the station wagon. he he he

Anywho, I though it would make sense that since there were four of us and four cats, we should all hold one.

What could be cuter than a picture of cute people with cute cats? Well, no one told the cats about the plan or my tradition of torture. To say they were uncooperative would be an understatement. So we just settled for the boring people instead.

We had lost Camille, just two months earlier. I tried several times to write a cheerful upbeat letter about how I had lived through the most devastating time of my life. Most times I have a knack for sugar coating things. But even I could not find away to say: a child I love has suffered a fate worse than death, oh and by the way, Merry Christmas.

So for the first time in seven years, I just sent the picture with no letter. And do you know what? It was OK. The world did not come crashing down, and no one even noticed or commented. Glory be.

And so we lived and were photographed another year. Who'd have thunk it.

The next year things will take a permanent turn for the better.

Same Bat channel. Same Bat time.