You're a fugitive; a man on the run. I can't believe they would be chasing you for something like that. 4 missing photos. I'll give you back the one you gave me if it'll keep you from jail.

Demented dreams, all a blur. Memorable but immemorable. Must have been my fever.

I lost my cats. I can't remember why. I was away: on tour, or at a party, or at work, or all three and I lost my cats. I guess I deserve that for never being home for them. Lydia was easy to find. She doesn't run from me and she wants to go home. I found her on Cornwallis Street. I put her safely in the jam spot or the car while I look for Gertie. She could be anywhere. She could've travelled a great distance. I walk around repeating her name over and over and over "GERTIIIIIE!! GERRRRTIIIIE! Where are you?!" A couple of friends walk past me on Cornwallis Street. They also yell Gertie's name, but it sounds like they're mocking me rather than helping me. Suddenly, I see Gertie running towards me, from somewhere on Creighton.

I scoop her up and head into the jam spot to collect Lydia and leave. I can't carry both the cats at the same time, and I lose them again. But of course, someone had the front door propped open, so instead of just losing them in the building, Lydia runs out the door. I hold on to Gertie with all my might; she's the difficult one to catch. Once again, I find myself on Cornwallis street calling out the name of a cat of mine. But instead of 'Lydia', I'm calling out 'Puppie.' I never did get closure on that cat. I regret everything I did in Puppie's life. I guess I'm struggling with it in my subconscious even now; all these years later. A stranger asks me what she looks like and I explain that she looks like she could be Gertie's sister. "Oh, there she is" the stranger says. I manage to pick up Puppie (Lydia) with my right arm while holding Gert in my left. I then put them in the Ford Freestar and wait for my drive home.