lived in seven apartments and at least one parsonage in four states, flew and drove cross-country, scaled Christmas trees, and smacked down bully tomcats twice her size...not to mention one bewildered 60-pound canine. She survived fleas, rocking chairs, my coming-out and my size-12 clodhoppers, and one of JW's unattended lit candlesticks. And through it all she wore a stunning coat and never lost her figure.
She fought a good hard fight against a months-long illness, but yesterday we decided it best that she accept defeat with all the grace that has been a constant through her seven years and four months among the rest of us savages.
So today I ask all of you to raise a glass to my little Beulah T!