Jan was the Patron Saint of small animals. Saint Jan. One day she asked me if we could get this stray starving cat near Granny's home. I of course said yes. I told her to get a can of sardines and put it near the open door of her Nissan 300. She did and caught it. It was nothing but bones. It had no face but for a nose. Then she came home bursting in the door. Jan ran around the house drawing the shades and peering out the windows hiding. I asked her what's wrong. She said the police might be after her. I asked, "For picking up a stray cat? I don't think so. You counter sue for animal cruelty." Then she calmed down." When she returned to the kitchen the cat had eaten through the McDonald bag, through the hamburger wrappers and eaten three hamburgers. We had decided to name the cat, "Mikey", after the popular commercial at the time. She had a heart of gold. Mikey was just the beginning. I think she loved the wolves the most. Jan was literally ahead of her time. She and the wolves could have had their own reality TV show. Those wolves were so zany. The jokes they played on Jan. I really mean it. Yeah, yeah, yeah. They play a bunch on me too. Buy Cheyenne was always after Jan. Cheyenne, the female, and the smartest, slept at the foot of the bed. And when Jan would get up to go to the toilet Cheyenne would sneak up and stick her snout under the covers and go under turn around and bring just her head out and lie down with her head on the pillow and play 'possum. Jan would come back and push her off. But later Cheyenne would just make herself heavy and not move. So poor little Jan would just push Cheyenne over to me and crawl in bed and go to sleep. Later I would wake up in the dark and think Jan was snuggled up next to me and I would be happy. But, even later, I would begin to realize Jan's scent had changed. No. Jan's scent had REALLY! changed. Hell no! It's that damn wolf was getting over like a rat! They were happy times. Long ago and far away. I hope she is in Heaven, running with the wolves.