In 1975 I was ten years old. Jaws was the number one movie. I was not yet a tween and a movie about people on vacation getting eaten by sharks scared the crap out of me. I was still afraid of the dark, afraid of the door in my bedroom that led to the attic. Afraid of monsters under my bed. I wore my hair long, just like Susan Dey, who played Lori Partridge in the Partridge Family. Just like my sister June wore her hair. June was eleven, one year and five days older than me. “Irish twins,” my mother always said. June had a mature-beyond-her-years look. I did not. June was poised and reserved. Her smile was sly, like the Mona Lisa. My smile revealed prominent bucked teeth with a gap in the mid

My cat Danny is dying. The timing of Danny’s transition is not lost on me. Danny has been by my side since the spring after I returned to my marriage (and Mitch) after a ten month separation. It seems that Danny came into my life, took one look around and said “Oh boy, she’s gonna need some help. Danny was by my side for the two years after I recommitted to Mitch, yet lived with the unsettling feeling that something just wasn’t right. Danny glued himself to my lap after the devastating discovery of Mitch’s lies and infidelities. When I responded to that trauma by spending five years shutting myself in and isolating myself from any real connection (other than my kids), Danny was there on my l