Mr. Cocoa decided to cash in another life. My mother called and told me that last night, my father crawled on his belly, under the deck and grabbed Cocoa. Cocoa wasn’t too happy about getting caught but he drank some water and ate a little food. My mother checked him out and said that he had some cuts on his body and must have gotten into a fight. So my assumption was wrong. He wasn’t under the deck getting ready to check out. He was under the deck nursing his wounds. That silly cat. At 17 years of age (that’s 85 human years!), he is still out rumbling. Cocoa is b-b-b-bad to the bone.