The ghost cats walk through the house as if it is the Serengeti and their watering hole exists under the table. They keen like the cries of a baby, masking their intentions to simply break hearts. I want to welcome them but they vanish into the walls as though they were made of nature. They unsteady my sleep as they come out and in.
They jump through the window, one by one, and walk in a gang towards the door, as if I am a migratory path, as if my heart should feel every soft footstep like a splinter.
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Just know yours is with you watching over you still, waiting until you welcome a new friend into your life to go play in the fields.
I chose cremation for my beloved cat and we picked up his ashes last week. I was convinced we would get , y'know, a paper bag or some flimsy thing but....they are really good at it around here. he was given back to us in a beautiful box with a book about grieving for a pet and many nice touches and poems. He now resided on a shelf...cue Ben Stiller jokes.
My only concern is that my cat got better care in his afterlife than many people do. But I am thankful for the effort made to honor his death.
I was telling a friend about retrieving him and forgot to mention that he had been cremated. I had some similar reactions when talking about my mothers ashes; neglecting to mention that , no, I am not talking to a dead body that is decomposing in my house. How weird do people think I can be?! Ok, don't answer that. Love to you all.
Rated for what they do so well.
Wishing you the best in your time of mourning.
[r] & (meow)