Dear Guinness:
I must apologize to you. I saw that look of terror on your face tonight, and I know you’re traumatized right now. After over 14 years together, I know you all too well. Yes, the loveseat has been moved into the other room, and yes I stored my clothes on that loveseat for the past 10 months, but it’s okay. We are not moving again. I know you assumed differently. Savoy simply moved the loveseat into the other room so that he can move a dresser in here for my clothes. Don’t worry! All is well.
It’s my fault that you’re freaked out. I totally get it. You’ve been through so much. I remember when I brought you home from my good friend Floyd Salas’ reading of his book, “ Love Bites — in Celebration of Dogs and Cats.” I was told you were the only one of six kittens who hadn’t adopted, and a lady plopped you on my lap. You were six months old then, and I knew you were mine. When I brought you home and let you out of the makeshift carrier, you practically bounced off the walls. Megan, who was only 13 then, and I watched you bounce back and forth and then beelined right for the Christmas tree. That was December 2006. You fit right in, and instantly became a member of our family.