Emma Weylin

It’s the name of my daughter, Pink’s, cat. He is the most loving, tolerant animal I know. The hubby attributes it to brain damage caused by Pink hitting his head on door jambs too much as she carried them around when they were both little. He could be right, or he could be wrong. All I know is the cat gets majorly ticked off when Pink spends the night at Nana’s house and he gets angry (Claws out kind of angry) when Pink gets in trouble. It’s an interesting relationship I think only a child and an animal can form, the kind of relationship formed before the magic is gone.

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