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And so I find yet another long lost sister, separated at birth.

Except for the cat part. Nope. One barn cat is more than enough.

Its too weird, yet more proof of being related, that after my (our?) mom died a few years ago, I went and wrote not only my own obit, but clear instructions for the post mortem party. I won’t be there, don’t give a rats behind, but by golly I will make sure it happens the way I wanted. I emailed it to everyone I thought might want to come and sing “Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead” while downing large quantities of Deschutes Black Butte Porter, Ninkasi Total Domination and Rogue Dead Guy ales.

I figured most everyone would be there for the beer anyway, so why skimp?

You did good. Now, send it to everyone you feel needs to know about the cat food. Oh, and don’t forget to mention the brand/flavours.

Cats are known to be finicky. Especially when they are grieving. Or breathing.

Peace in, sistah Erika…

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