Ron sent me another cat picture.
Too bad Pumpman is dead. I used to love cat bombing him. The very first time I met him was at an impromptu blodger meetup in Dahlonega Georgia, which was the forerunner for Blogtoberfest that we Jawja blodgers used to have at Helen Georgia every year in October. We quit that since it conflicted with the Hysterics at Eric’s we have every year for Eric’s birthday. His lovely wife Fiona lets him have all of us rowdy blodgers come to his house in Tennessee every year. Anywho, the very first time I met him, I was ambling to the table on my crutches and he yelled while pointing at me, “You! You’re the got-dammed sonuvabitch who keeps cat bombing me with those got-dammed cat pictures! Someone needs to drag you off and have you shot!”
It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. We had a lot in common. We both played guitar and sang. He was better at both. We were both cranky old bastards. We both hated liberals progressives rat bastard commies. We both liked to vent our anger on our blogs. He had a lot of inner demons that he tried to drown with drink and that is what led to his death.