*single tear*

It's a sad sad day. And I can only really blame myself.

It started maybe four days ago. Everyday I'd go outside and call for my cat, Kittie. Usually, she'd jump at the sound of my voice.

But for the last few days I begain to panic. Had she run off like our other cat had? Did she get picked up by the Humane society and up for adoption?

Was she dead?

Only today, had my 'rents come clean to tell me the horrible truth: THEY GAVE HER AWAY.

And they didn't tell me.

Part of me was sort or releieved - I had jumped to conclusions and thought she was dead.

The other part was pissed and sad and cried in the backyard. She wasmy cat. I've had her since she was a kitten. Before my youngest sister was born. She comforted me when Frisky, our other cat, ran off, when Twon ran off and got arrested, when Wilson died even.

My dad said he didn't do it to hurt me. I knew Kittie was sick, and old. And since my younger bratty sister was allergic, we'd have to get rid of her anyway. She wasn't allowed inside.

But it still doesn't ease the pain. We could've let her in. It would've been okay.

DOES ANYONE ELSE WANT TO FUCKING STAB ME IN THE BACK!!!???!!!

~jink, who is totally pissed and going somewhere to knit and cry.