Strawberry died tonight. Strawberry (better known to Annie and me throughout her life as 'Psychokitty') was a tiny stray kitten when we found her. She was playing among the wooden stalls of a produce stand next to an extremely busy highway, and I was terrified that she was going to get killed by one of the cars pulling up to make a purchase. She appeared to be part of a litter born in the brush and debris near the stand. I approached the owner and laughingly asked him if he would bribe me with a free basket of strawberries if Annie and I adopted the kitten and took her home. He pointed to Strawberry's parent, sitting behind him inside, and said "If it's anything like that nasty bastard of a dad, you can have it." The adult cat was a huge, fuzzy black monster who looked like a persian that had stuck his tail in a light socket. "He's too mean to kill." We took the kitten home and made her part of the cattery population, one of our rescues. She was an incredibly beautiful, sweet, easy to handle kitten. So much so that we entered her in the kitten category at the very next ACFA cat show, and she took every first place ribbon except one, in eight rings. That was her first and last show. When Strawberry reached puberty, she suddenly became a holy terror. She wouldn't let you touch her without roaring and growling at you. She wouldn't let you pet her without trying to bite your hand off. She wouldn't let you pick her up without trying to rip you to bits with her claws. And bathing her was suicide. She grew into one of the most gorgeous long-haired tortoiseshell cats I've ever seen, and we couldn't show her. When the summers got hot and we hauled her in to the vet for an annual "lion cut" to cool her off, the vet had to anesthetize her to get her groomed. The vet assistants trembled at the sight of her. But she was happy and comfortable living in the open cattery with the other cats, so we let her be and enjoyed her for the character she was. And she allowed us to enjoy her company for about 9 years, until a faulty vial of vaccine did her in. She was gone when I got home tonight, and she rests among the other friends of bygone times, in the back yard. See you at the Rainbow Bridge, Strawberry. I won't even complain if you bite me.