But here's a picture of my last cat from the last millennium. That's as close as I can get:



She was a foundling. My wife and I came home from a walk to our apartment complex one evening, and heard screaming from a vent three storeys up. A tiny kitten was sticking its head out in a panic, its fur suggesting recent contact with static electricity.

I didn't know what to do, so I started walking away. The kitten then launched herself outside and I caught her with a great leaping dive and saved her life. She licked my face, implying she'd never doubted I'd catch her and stole my heart.

I think I just fell in love with you. Platonically, of course. You got me all freakin' teary eyed.

I WILL MAKE YOU REMEMBER; yes INDEED

that thing that you got from that place that time.

Or... you forgot to flush.

I walk into the bedroom and say, "What am I here after?"

Arte Johnson as the dirty old man asks Ruth Buzzi (as the old lady who clobbers people with her purse,) if she thinks about the hereafter.

"Of course I do!"

"Then you know what I'm here after..."

WAP!