On the way home from the Rite of Election the keeper drove slowly to ACCES emergency hospital where they were holding Cecil's remains in a casket shaped box. When she brought the box in and told me it was my friend, I didn't believe her because it didn't smell like him and no familiar greeting emerged out of the box. But when I looked inside, my feline intuition was confirmed; I had sensed we had said our last good bye in life last Tuesday night. I have sensed his spirit hovering near me these last days, and was hoping he would come back home, but now I know for sure. He's home, but alive in a new way.
It was pouring down rain, sheets of it. I wondered if the keeper would bury him in this weather. But she told me that this was Cecil's favorite weather, and reminded me of how much he liked to come inside dripping wet and wait for her to chase him with a towel and rub him dry. So, we went ahead with the service. I watched from the window perch. She wrapped him in a favorite blanket, tucked in his favorite mice, sprinkled him with the catnip he loved to roll in. She included my picture. Then she gently placed the box bearing his name in the fleshly dug grave, and covering it with rich soil and lots of flowers--pansies and primroses, crocus and little jonquils, hellebores. He is right under my window perch so we can keep an eye on each other and the hummingbirds and all the sparrows (and any other trespassing cats and raccoons).
In fact during the service the birds made quite a commotion, and the hummingbirds kept buzzing the keeper, and it wasn't about the food. The feeders were full. It was too wet to light candles, but he isn't going anywhere, so maybe tomorrow.
There were prayers and calls from our friends, across town, across the country, and across the Pond. We even received sympathy cards. We felt very supported. Thanks to all.
This is the birds-eye view of Kittyrood.
