It's incredible to me that a shelter wouldn't take in a sick fuzzy,unless
they just had no more room or no more money.Perhaps, if you'd come to the
FML before he was gone,you could have received the help you needed.It's
been done,and many are and were willing to help,if only to take the little
guy in and provide care.I understand you didn't have time to save up the
money for an emergency,it was thrust upon you.Next time,I hope never,come
out in public and tell all.The truth is the truth,and don't be afraid to
tell it.
 
On a better note,here's a poem for those of us that are owned by these
furry critters.
 
I can be more,
Than the poop on the floor.
 
I can really be better,
Even though your shoes are wetter.
 
I can be very nice.
Despite that sock vice.
 
I can do so much more,
Though I try to beat you out the door.
 
I can keep you so besotted.
How did those plants get un-potted?
 
I can be quite the flirt.
Oops,you didn't see that dirt.
 
I can turn you into a sop.
Those books didn't belong on that table top.
 
I am queen of this household.
Yes,don't dig in the litter,I was told.
 
Don't you think I'm cute as a bug?
That hole in the carpet? You think I dug?
 
I'm going to show you how dear,
Just as soon as I'm done with this ear.
 
I'm so cute when I doze.
What? Don't bite the nose?
 
I'll roll upside down,
And turn that frown around.
 
Are those aww's just for me?
Is that a big smile I see?
 
You snuggle me up close to your heart.
That's what I stole, right from the start.
 
 
Sandy and the Five Fuzzy Gang
[Posted in FML issue 3179]