I don't do this often, but in this case I will. Our cat, Buster, passed away last night in his sleep. I got him when I lived alone in New Jersey in 1995 (he was one year old, or so the guess went). He had been being fed by a man with Alzheimer's who kept forgetting that he had to feed the twelve cats that hung around his house. Buster was taken to a shelter, where I adopted him. He was a very cool cat, more friendly than most, the constant hunter for a lap to sit on. My wife and kid came to love him immensely, for good reason. In any case, his death prompted me to search out a poem that I used to love by Charles Bukowski (I'm not usually a fan). I link to the poem here. Those lines about the influence of Celine and all are just fantastic. And so in memory of Buster:
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/10781-Charles-Bukowski-The-History-Of-One-Tough-Motherfucker-wbr-
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