Comings and Goings
Oct. 25th, 2022 07:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogIn the midst of our quiet, football-free Sunday afternoon, the doorbell rang. Too early for Amazon, and door-to-door window salespeople usually don't work weekends.
It was an unexpected memory. A neighbor had been doing some yardwork, and found this outside:
Bronzini's original collar, gone missing during his two week walkabout six months ago. We'd immediately replaced it, and it got pretty scratched up but you could still make out our phone numbers, but this kind woman didn't just call; she made the effort to track us down at home to return it and make sure he was home and okay. He's fine, of course, and while he occasionally will stick his nose around an open door, he's never shown any interest in being on its other side.
Not to be confused with certain British prime ministers:
(I'm not sure if that's Larry, the real Downing Street cat. He might've been off to London to see theQueen King.)
----
The return of the collar served as a reminder of the circle going round. For it was two years ago last week that our little found Lost Boy Bronzini, and his brother Boz, came home to us as tiny kittens. Their litter names were Krispie and Pop; Snap and Crackle went elsewhere, so they got renamed in our home.
Boz never thrived, and on a cold December night two months after Gotcha Day, we said our goodbye to him- curled up spooning with me till his last breath.
One of our already resident felines- Evil Cat, aka Michelle- passed three months later after a much longer and annoying life.
So last night, we buried Boz and Evil- in a front patch with five other kitzels and two pups from the last 34 years.
Esmeralda.
Bozo.
Biggsy.
Arthur (the kids' and our only other kittenish loss).
Tasha.
Tazzer.
Ebony.
And now, two more to ground. A beautiful fall day, warm soil, pretty leaves on top.
Their memories, mostly good, live on inside the home and the hearts. And no, it didn’t take four hours like it did in the Python sketch.
It was an unexpected memory. A neighbor had been doing some yardwork, and found this outside:
Bronzini's original collar, gone missing during his two week walkabout six months ago. We'd immediately replaced it, and it got pretty scratched up but you could still make out our phone numbers, but this kind woman didn't just call; she made the effort to track us down at home to return it and make sure he was home and okay. He's fine, of course, and while he occasionally will stick his nose around an open door, he's never shown any interest in being on its other side.
Not to be confused with certain British prime ministers:
(I'm not sure if that's Larry, the real Downing Street cat. He might've been off to London to see the
----
The return of the collar served as a reminder of the circle going round. For it was two years ago last week that our little found Lost Boy Bronzini, and his brother Boz, came home to us as tiny kittens. Their litter names were Krispie and Pop; Snap and Crackle went elsewhere, so they got renamed in our home.
Boz never thrived, and on a cold December night two months after Gotcha Day, we said our goodbye to him- curled up spooning with me till his last breath.
One of our already resident felines- Evil Cat, aka Michelle- passed three months later after a much longer and annoying life.
So last night, we buried Boz and Evil- in a front patch with five other kitzels and two pups from the last 34 years.
Esmeralda.
Bozo.
Biggsy.
Arthur (the kids' and our only other kittenish loss).
Tasha.
Tazzer.
Ebony.
And now, two more to ground. A beautiful fall day, warm soil, pretty leaves on top.
Their memories, mostly good, live on inside the home and the hearts. And no, it didn’t take four hours like it did in the Python sketch.