Whenever it gets close to Halloween, I start thinking about my dear old Abyssinian cat, Tut, bless his long departed soul. He died of old age about a year-and-a-half ago, but I’ll always think about him every Halloween and here’s why:
(I wrote this column on Oct. 18, 1996)
TUT THE PUMPKIN KILLER
You can always tell when it’s getting close to Halloween at my house. (Last weekend we finished harvesting pumpkins from our garden.)
Several weeks ago, son Karl and I wrestled with the biggest squash in our garden, a monstrous 100-lb. “thing” we called Jabba-the-pumpkin, and shoved it to the patio just outside the sliding glass doors to my office.
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