Guilt is a nasty thing.
Merriam-Webster defines guilt as “the state of one who has committed an offense especially consciously” and “feelings of culpability especially for imagined offenses or from a sense of inadequacy.”
I define guilt as the nagging little entity in my mind that feeds itself by depriving me of sleep, making all food inedible, and screwing with an array of my relationships until it grows and grows and grows and inevitably turns into an ugly, stinking troll with razor sharp teeth and fungus-ridden nails whose sole mission for existing is to gobble up my brain, making any sense of …read more

I miss Gus.
Gus was my little gray and white long-haired kitten, best friend to both Chopper and Miss Penny Lane, and vanquisher of all silence.
He was needy, he liked to sleep on my chest, and had a strict “no closed doors” policy.
He ate a lot, he pooped a lot, and he was the criminal mastermind behind every “no-no” Chopper committed.
Honestly. I watched this cat bat pens, wallets, and candy into the floor for Chopper to carry off to her cage, a.k.a. The Chop Cave.
A little over a year ago, Gus died.