Saturday
Good Bye Fuzzy
Partly Cloudy 67-68 here
At 6 last evening, when I put Fuzzy to bed, after helping hime get a drink at the bird bath, he went under my watch bench. I kissed the top of his satiny black head ... and looked into his tired sick looking eyes and his pretty pink nose and lips in his pointed white face.
I told him good night and put him down.
He looked at the can of water, plate of milk and bowl of beef broth then scurried into my shop and under the bench.
I looked for him this morning and at noon.
He is nowhere to be seen and still missing at 10 this evening.
He was Harry's favorite. He selected him after his cat died the fall or winter of 1957.
Every evening while Nita and I were washing dishes, he would bring the kitten inside his jacket and show us his cat.
Now he is gone.
Nita gone...
now little Fuzzy.
He never grew big and always had a weak stomach.