Election Day write in

Today is a primary election day where I live, in southeastern Pennsylvania, and I did something I'd consider childish if someone else had done it, particularly a man who's just turned sixty-one, which is the case with me.
I wrote in my late cat's name. He died three days ago.
I take voting seriously, I really do. (The only time I've missed voting in a presidential election since 1976 was in 1988, when the incumbent George H.W. Bush ran against Michael Dukakis, the Massachusetts governor. I was living overseas at the time, in Japan, and I procrastinated in getting an absentee ballot. Really, I'm not sure getting one would have been possible. I'd left Minnesota and I wouldn't return to my native state of Pennsylvania for another two years. At the time, I don't think I was a resident in any state.)
Anyway, some hours after I write this, a record will show that a Raymond M. Cat, my cat, received one vote for

prothonotary, which, I've since learned, is the principal clerk in some courts of law. In the unlikely event my vote decides the results of that race, I am truly sorry, but the odds of that happening are remote. 
I have never cast a vote with more love in my heart than I did when I wrote in my cat. That's an experience worth having at some point in everyone's life.