So, did I write about Pookie? He was gone, everyone said he was dead. 18 years old or something. A great run for an awesome cat. And then he showed up all, “Um how about some water?” A week later, the p’s are back to ignoring him again and keeping him in the basement because he craps all over the place.
I’m realizing now that there is a similarity there to how my family treats me, Jon, the Mule of the Family. If there’s something that needs to be done, babysitting, any and all heavy lifting, remote control maintenance, listening, etc., everyone wonders where I am and how soon I can get there.
And then I’m so awesome, and such a great person and sorry did you say something, Jon? Where did Jon go? He left an hour ago? How did we miss that?