Ferguson's Eulogy
In November 2002, my cat Ferguson died, but life was busy, temperatures were cool, and I wasn't in a real hurry to bury him at first. For a time, I drove around town with a dead cat in the back of my car (similar to how I put Sylvie the cat in the freezer so she'd keep when she died the previous summer).

When burial day came, I started digging a hole just off the driveway when homeless J. came down the alley. At his insistence he finished digging the hole.

J. was in a lot of pain. He had been in a pitched fistfight with several other homeless guys the night before and had bruises on his head, his face, and his ribs. His hand was badly swollen, perhaps even broken.

J. put poor silent Ferguson in the hole, tamped the cat down with his foot, looked down, shook his head, and solemnly said "Shit Happens".

And does it ever!
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 20:58, Reply)