Our Little Boy and the Big Mean Truck

Roly Poly was a trooper. Like his aunt Guerita, he was fearless to a fault. In his pre-blind years, he roamed around, didn’t freak out when there was a huge thunderstorm or even an earthquake. In those carefree years of his, I would call him home and lock him up in my bedroom on Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve. Like many towns in Latin America, many people shoot off fireworks and shoot guns in the air at the stroke of midnight on those occasions. Not to hurt anyone, but as tradition. Nobody actually knows why, but that’s beside the point. It is what it is, and we always have to take precautions, which include getting people under a safe roof, and locking up the braver kitties. Continue reading