There are those lucky few days when things suck, and I am haunted by my past, but I can fight. I have the weapons to, and they were given to me by my dearest of friends. Sometimes it's all I can do to get to sleep without painful memories bubbling up from my unconscious mind to just cling tightly to a good memory or a good feeling: the memory of a stolen nap at a furcon with a dear friend, reflections on a series of deep chats with another dear friend, or the idea that people care about me and would miss me if I were gone. Just the knowledge that someone, somewhere cares is enough to make me cry with excruciating sweetness. If all I received were a letter half a page long from one of you at random every three months, it might just still be enough, for I am a mathematician by nature, and existence proofs are my pride and joy. So let me say this, to a pair of corsacs, a lynx, a snow leopard, a red wolf, and a highly mutable otter: you mean more to me than you can know or imagine. Thank you.