Do you ever sit in your house staring at nothing, feeling as if someone just knocked you senseless with a shovel to the back of the head and you wouldn’t mind at all if you were dragged off to be buried in the back yard with the bony remains of 16 leathery faced old cats?

Years from now, when new owners buy the property and decide to blow up the cracker box and start fresh… they’ll find the 16 cats, an assortment of rusted Festina watches and a rabid raccoon all planted face down in the grassy plot that makes up the southeastern corner of the yard…. and I’ll wonder why I wasn’t there, too.

Sheer will, sometimes. Faith, others. But for today, the sign says it all.