Daffodil was a boy. I named him Daffodil because I thought he was a girl. Daffodil was as tough as a three month old navy biscuit and he could whip your candy-butt pet’s hide 6 ways from Sunday. He didn’t deserve to die. I don’t know what happened to him, but there are probably a million humans who deserved to die rather than my cat.
If letting terrorists kill 500,000 innocent people with a car bomb would bring back my cat, I would do it. Daffodil was better than you and your whole family. I hope that cats go to the same heaven as people, cause when you go there…IF you go there, he’ll kick your butt, then when I get there he’ll sit on my lap and get in the way of my keyboard while I’m trying to type. He was just that way.
In Loving Memories,
| Daffodil |
| 28, Nov 2005 |
| Alan Desmarais |