I'll always remember: Garfield

I'll always remember going over to my grandma's house as a kid. She collects dolls, and they were everywhere.

My grandma, God love it, is the source of my pack-rat gene. That is one potent gene! It went straight from Grammy, to my mom, and hit me hard. Somehow my sister escaped, but we're all sentimental about our belongings and the belongings of others. That doesn't have to be a bad thing, does it?

At Grammy's house, one of my favorite things to do was to play with her big orange cat, Garfield, her pride and joy. I wish I had a picture. She still talks about him with fondness and sorrow. He was killed by another cat in the neighborhood, and she never really got over it. Not sure if I did either; whenever I hear cats fight I still remember that, and it makes me worry that someone will get really hurt.

Garfield was a cool cat. I used to dress him up in baby/doll clothes and wheel him around in an old baby carriage. I'm actually surprised that Grammy let me play with the baby carriage. It was really old, not a toy, and had been used by her parents or her aunt/uncle or someone. Grammy had a lot of really valuable antiques and dolls in her house, most of which were off limits. The rule was: if the doll is still in the box, then you can't play with it.