acmespaceship

First of all, I want to point out that I am not one of those people who keep ashes of deceased loved ones on the mantel. Nothing against anyone who does, just not my thing. However, when there's major yardwork pending, I might wait a few months until things quiet down. Or, you know, when you put the little white box from the pet crematorium behind a photo on the piano because you don't want visitors to notice and feel compelled to say something, and you get busy with life and especially new clients, on a week-to-week basis you might tend to forget it's there. So anyway, with el Dia de los Muertos bearing down fast upon us, I finally buried "Falstaff Cat Golladay's" ashes in the backyard this afternoon.

My second point of exposition is that, for the 17 years he lived in our household, Falstaff greatly enjoyed converting the potential energy of magnets, stickers and post-it notes. Something about no object defying gravity on his watch.

So today, as I opened the little white box in the kitchen and found my gardening gloves, I said something to the effect of "Hey, Falstaff, here we go." And Cosmo the kitten (actually a little over 1 year old, so I consider him in grad school) came running into the kitchen, trilling and looking around because he heard me say "Falstaff." And I said, "No, Cosmo, Falstaff isn't here."

Upon which, immediately and without visible cause, a magnet dropped off the refrigerator. It landed on the floor with a "plop" and Cosmo appropriated it to play with.

OK, so I was wrong. Just sayin'.

Requiem æternam dona eis, Domine,

et lux perpetua luceat eis.