Her Mother was Shrodinger's Cat, and her Father was the immortal "Hep Cat". She unfolded into this world like a good hyperbeing would, and then knocked over every glass of water she came across, seemingly just because she thought it was funny. And it was. She was totaly Bee-Bop, black and orange electricity. She had the best sense of humor of anyone I know and had mad skillz, like Cirque du Soleil on crack. She was eight lbs. of pure, un-cut Columbian greatness. I think she could fly. I'm pretty sure she was a Ghostbuster, too.

In short, Debbie was the greatest thing since velcro. She out-classed us all, and in a just world she would have out-lived us all, too. But in this world, it's legal to transport yourself in a 4,000 lb. speeding bullet, and the dent that her body left in the front of the bullet that hit her likely cost more to fix than the driver thought Debbie was worth. But screw what the world thinks, ANY creature is worth more than ANY car.

Apparently, all of Debbie's Kung-Fu skills were no match for speeding metal - though I'm inclined to think that she just had some more pressing matters to attend to in a different dimention. Now I can only look back on the time I spent with her, frozen in the fragile ice of memory. And in looking, I see each of the times I didn't go and play outside with her all standing in a line with every lackluster day of my life: unanswered, regretable, and unchangeable.

My point: Please, be one of the Debbies of the world, dammit. Don't delay - the time to rock has come. That funky cat had living in the momment down cold, and by jove, she was on to something with that tune. How dare any of us be anything less than great!?

Debbie, you were, and are, a super freak and a Goddess, and I'll continue to try and be worthy even though it's too late. You continue to be the most inspiring person I know. Damn it. It's gonna be real lonely without you, Baby.

*Sara Chrenen - Critter Jones*