When I found Foo Foo alongside of the road on my way to work one morning, I was devastated.
I picked up her beautiful calico stiff body and walked back to the house, bawling my eyes out, all the while alternated calling her "my beautiful kitty" then "you stupid cat" knowing she had tried to cross the road and didn't make it.
As we buried her close by, I swore, "No more cats!"
It was just too painful to grow to love them and then lose them.
But, less than four months later, Becky started a campaign for a new kitty. I resolved to stay firm in my decision.