They say truth is stranger than fiction, well... it's true.



This morning around 7:00 AM my husband burst into the bedroom...
"What's going on?" I said.
"I'm looking for George" says he.

Knowing that is an odd statement for him, I drag myself into the kitchen for coffee and asked,

"why do you want George?"
" I was feeding him this morning, then I started walking the dogs around the block and there he was.... dead at the corner"
"What???????????"


I was so upset, and I asked him if he would go get him... he said he was going to bury him in the back yard, where Maggie and other rabbits and birds were buried~ out pet cemetary.

When he came home, he grabbed the dogs and headed in the other direction for the routine morning walk.

Being in a state of denial, I went outside and started calling the cats in my " come and get it voice"... "Kitty friends....Kitttttttttttttty frieeeeeeeeeeeeeends"

And of course, up walks Carmellia, Sassy, Baxter AND George. ( Tigger has been seen one block over for the past 3 days)

To make a long story short, my husband buried the wrong cat, and I haven't the heart to find out whose cat it is.

I was wondering...Would YOU want to know your cat had died or just want to keep on thinking it was missing or stolen. I know the right thing to do is tell the folks, once we find out, but honestly........... I would not want to know.

Welcome Home George.