[Intrepid Homoludens]

You're welcome, my dear.

My little Siamese cat, Moss Temperton, died two weeks before my birthday ten years ago (he was five years, quite young to pass away). He meant the world to me then, as that time was the absolute worst time in my life for several reasons and he was the only true friend I had - never questioned me, never betrayed me, and was always there for a hug. When he died I died in my heart, but I took it as a sign that it was a great time to sit down and think and plan a great change for myself, which I did.

Moss is still, will always be, with me. Even today I convulse a little from giggling from the memory of how sweet, loyal, and snuggly he was. I wouldn't have such moments today if I had never gotten him then.