There is something artificial about setting aside one particular day to remember. Artificial, yes. But also merciful.
We did it, kittens. We marched forth. We outlasted the year that seemed like always winter and never Christmas. And now, Aslan is on the move. Now, wild dingoes couldn’t keep us from blooming.
We debate the following to no end at Tabby’s Place: Is it easier to say goodbye when we’ve had a long time to prepare? Or does the suddenness of loss spare us a searing season of grief?
It’s often said that, if cats could talk, they wouldn’t. After all, they are speaking all the time. It’s up to us to read their glyphs — or, in the case of Lil, their cloud-veiled eyes.
Mashed taters: eaten. Great uncles and aunties: kissed. November: accomplished.