My last cat was named Madonna. My oldest boy was living with me and he called from work to ask if he could bring home a little kitten that needed a home.

I said, "sure."

Well, Madonna, despite living with three dogs at the time, never took to this kitten. The kitty would blindly follow Madonna around the abode, despite getting hissed at and having claws thrown in its face.

Well, Madonna started staying outside for longer and longer periods of time. I guess this was her way of getting away. I missed her, but what could i do? If i forced her to stay inside, she was miserable and mean.

One day, one of my neighbors said, "Dyou see Madonna?"

I said, "No, have you seen her?

He said "Yes, one of the cars in the complex ran her over."

I felt as if someone or something had hit me. My Madonna was gone. she would no longer crawl into my bed, at night, to get her head scratched. She would no longer come to me when I sent her kissess. She would no longer be the mean queen of our scene.