This is not sports-related at all, but a tragic weekend in the Miller-Roberts household. On Wednesday, Dax, our family's cat for 13 years died. I remember picking him up from the pound roughly 13 years ago along with Larry, our other cat (whole other story). Dax put up with a lot of shit from our family, which definitely made him last for so long. This cat was a trooper, he survived a fall onto our spiked fence where he literally was gutted. After the surgery and getting stitched back up, we never got around to removing the stitches removed (thanks to the vet charging a ridiculous amount for the procedure). Dax did amazing things, he ran through his nine lives and then some. Surviving a week on his own, killing squirrels and neighborhood cats that crossed his path and finally diabetes.
This may seem like we treated this cat like garbage, I don't mean for it to sound like that at all. in fact the opposite. My mother treated Dax like an angel, even if he was acting like a whiny punk. Clawing her and begging for food all the time, even with a full dish of food. Hopping into her lap while she was making food. She paid attention to him and loved him. My father, a whole different story, which we won't get into.
Dax was an amazing cat and will be sincerely missed.
RIP
RIP
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