“Daddy, why don’t we have a cat? You always say you love cats,” GoofGirl asked.
“But I love mommy more and she has allergies,” I explained for the two hundred thousandth time.
“Really?” she looked skeptical, so finally I leveled with her.
“Cats are very, very dangerous.”
“No, they are cute and fluffy and cuddly,” GoofGirl protested.
“Remember how I always tell you stories about my cat in Boston?”
“Right, Kitty,” she grinned.
“His name was Teddy Roosevelt. My roommate called him Teddy because he was cute and I called him Roosevelt because of his patrician mien.” We were strange guys – we brewed beer, baked bread, played with Legos, and occasionally juggled fire.
“But you called him Kitty?”
“Yes. Anyway, Mommy was getting very friendly with him and I had to speak her firmly about this. I told her, ‘Do not give that cat any money.’"
"Why can't you give cats money, what would they do with it?" GoofGirl asked, just as her mother did almost two decades ago.
"Cats use money to buy guns."
“Daddy, that’s ridiculous, how could a cat use a gun?”
“No one knows, because if you see a cat with a gun, it is the last thing you will ever see!”
GoofGirl rolled her eyes at me, just like her mom did almost two decades ago.
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