Kerby was a curmudgeon. I don’t thin he was ever happy except when he was eating. There were times when he wanted to snuggle and he would start purring. He had a very loud purr. Often Cliff or I would ask”what’s that noise?” We’d look around and there was Kerby sleeping, snoring. Once Cliff woke me up to complain that Kerby and I were snoring too loudly.

He was sick for a while. He lost a lot of weight( he weighted about 20lbs.) Near the end he couldn’t move around, so I would pick him up and carry him where he wanted to go. And that was mostly to sleep in my lap.

I buried him in the backyard where he’ll decompose and return to dust where we all come from.

Obviously I disappointed that someone doesn’t live up to my standards. So now I feel like a little kid that whining that there’s no Santa. Because after all, that’s life, where you have to deal with crazy Aunt Tilda in the attic.

It also reminds me, when I asked why being gay was bad(I don’t quite remember the exact question). And the answer was the Bible says so. End of discussion. Of course being a closeted atheist, that wasn’t good enough. But I didn’t pursue it.