Stop the music!

I touched on this before, but damned if I didn't hear "Abraham, Martin, & John" on the radio this afternoon (before I got home, but after my weekly stop-in at the vet's office).

I haven't heard this song in years, but every time I do, something dies.

No, I'm not joking. Not exaggerating. First time I heard it, the next day, my cat squeaker got hit by a car.

Time after that? 5 of my cats got shot by my douchebag asshole landlord. (Long story. Karma's a bitch, though. His dog got hit by a car a few weeks later. No. It wasn't my car.)

Next time? Our cat, Pock, got hit by a car.

After that? A friend died in a car accident.

Those are specific incidents I can remember, but I know there were others.

So, understandably, every time I hear that song, I start to massively freak out. I couldn't throw down the spools of ribbon I was looking at, and scream "OHSHITCANYOUPLEASETURNTHERADIOOFF!!! and dive under the nearest fabric table, hug my knees, and start rocking back and forth, but I really, really wanted to.

However, I am happy to report that Evil is fine. Sneezing, but OK. I stopped in to pick up more prednisone for her today, so we're good for another 10 days or so.