I’m going to come clean and admit that this has been a terrible month for me. Anything good that happened is negligible, a blurry photograph at a happy occasion that’s bound to happen again anyway. All good things were cancelled out by the death of my beloved 17 year old cat, Chick, 2 weeks ago on March 12. This was the last photo taken of him, on a Sunday night, while I was watching Homeland, and I was blissfully unaware that Lymphoma was speedily destroying him. Six days after this photo was taken, I took him to the vet because he hadn’t been himself all week, hiding, barely eating and having difficulty breathing. It was a Saturday. I dropped him off for X-rays and the vet called me later with the grim diagnosis. Of course I was prepared to hand over whatever money it took to heal him. I’ve maxed out my credit cards before to bring him back to health. Only… only I was told there was nothing that could be done except to …