They said he would not live. They said he could not see. They say loss is softer when you are “prepared.”
How can you possibly write an obituary for a stranger? Only when they’re a friend.
“Honey” appeared to be the perfect name: she was golden yellow, with a little white, and she was small and cute. She was already 13 when she became my office mate in 2020, after it became clear that she had little tolerance for other cats … or most people. I learned quickly that the sweetness […]
There is a sense in which the sun never sets. Race ever eastward, leaping longitudes like jump rope, and you will stay in the light. Nestle in memory, grateful for the days given, and you will stay in bloom.
She did not write with fine point pens. She did not dress in age-appropriate beige. She will not let the colors fade.
We get more than we pay for at Tabby’s Place. But some days, we wish the price was not so high.
He arrived geriatric and intergalactic. He was the patriarch of impossible panache. Mortimer would make no time for mourning, but mere mortals must weep.
When you are a tortoiseshell of vast dignity, you are entitled to your secrets. Roxy gave me permission to tell you one: she loved Neil Young.