The village idiot of Las Vegas loses a friend today.

"I'm pretty sure Clyde met his maker last night." - Keith - a roommate at the dump truck I call home had sad news for me this morning. "Please tell me he didn't get run over," I say in a somber tone.

Clyde was the feral cat who shared everyone's affections. He was born a year and a half to two years ago. He was the gatekeeper. Unfortunately, he met the violent end I always feared he would.

"The poor bastard," I tell Keith as we scrape him off the side of the road and place his lifeless body into a trash bag - We call animal control but they are unable to come until tomorrow....RIP Clyde