So I was nosing around the Whores Diary, just to see who was shilling what and ummm, I crossed the line.

Yep, as if you needed any more proof that I have no life, absolutely no life at all, well, um, er, ahhhhhh ...

Okay, I'm just going to spit it out. I put a memorial up to my late lamented kitty Lily Pickles in the cat e-cemetery. Pleaseohpleaseohplease don't laugh at me.

*Sigh.* I can be SO lame when it comes to my cats.

I shouldn't really call Lily my cat, she bonded to my kid Jess from the get-go. She was born when Jess was very young, and the kid used to drag her everywhere, sometimes none too gently. Lily just put up with it.

She was the runt of the only litter of kittens we've had here and never grew much past the size of a three month old. Despite her size, Lily was a fearsome hunter and passed on her formidable hunting chops to all our other cats.

She beat the living crapola out of Zubby when we got him as a kitten, and so he lived in terror of Lily. Kind of funny considering she weighed about three pounds and he tops the scale at over 15 pounds. Shows you where attitude can take a woman, eh.

Lily always considered our armchair "her" chair. If she came upstairs and found Zubby sleeping in it she only had to give him what Paul called "the stare of death" and Zubby would sheepishly vacate it for her.

She lived to a great old age and died this spring after a long decline. Paul found her that morning and when he told me, I'm embarrassed to say that I wept for her as if I had lost a child. She's buried not far from our pond by a clump of lilies. She loved to lurk near the pond and watch my goldfish; darn cat caught more than her share of them, too.

Diaryland.

A place where people write obituaries for pets they loved.

A place where people create virtual pet cemeteries.

What an odd place.

Or maybe I should just amend that to say what an odd person. But then, you knew THAT about me already, eh.