My best friend Molly had to say goodbye to her cat Bazoo last week. She had Bazoo since she was born (since the cat was born, not since Molly was born…that would make a really old cat. Not that Molly is old, but she would be old for a cat. I’m just saying.) and yet she still didn’t really have a true idea of how old she was. That’s okay because I don’t know how old my cats are either. Bazoo kind of hated me. And by kind of, I mean really really a whole lot. She plotted my death as soon as she heard my beat up car pulling up to the apartment and my heavy stompy feet coming up the stairs.
I know Bazoo is in heaven right now, looking down at me and throwing things at my head.
I wanted to do a tribute to Bazoo so I googled “Bazoo” and found this picture. I find it strangely appropriate:
One day I was sitting at Molly’s desk, giggling and snickering to myself and then ran out of her apartment like I stole something. I in fact, left something on her computer:
Subsequently, I added some holiday variety to Bazoo:
Bazoo, we hardly knew ye.