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Blogs by Penni Lynn Smith (Weston)
Still Feeling Blue 5/29/2004 1:13:09 PM
Last week I had a memorial service to go to. My sister-in-law's grandmother passed away. I knew the lady very well. She was spunky and lively. And then disease caused that to wear away like water erosion on a mighty mountain side. She was cremated. A very creepy way to be taken care of, in my opinion. Exactly one week later, a very young, small little tabby cat that never allowed me to touch it came to the back doorstep to die. I put the little thing in a box and covered it with a small towel because it was shivering with cold. I had to take my mother to the doctor that same day and could not devote any time to care for it. I was miserable all the time we were gone. I knew what was in store for me when I returned...digging a grave and saying goodbye to a sweet little thing. I didn't even know if it was a boy or girl cat. In the late afternoon, it got out of the box and crawled away. I had hoped that meant it was well enough to go on. But I turned the corner and there it was, lying right beside the house, gone. I took soft paper towel and a plastic bag and gently prepared it for burial. I dug the hole as deep as I could because the ground was so hard. I put it in to cover it up and it still had its little eyes open. I couldn't bear the thought of maybe buring it alive. I left the bag open in the open hole for the next hour. When I went back, nothing had changed. There was no miraculous resurrection. My little one I called Shortie was gone. He had little short legs, thus the reason for his name. I went ahead and laid the dirt over him, crying like an idiot. I placed a little rose bud on this grave marker, a simple cut branch. That's all I could do for him or her. Everytime an animal dies on me, I feel as though I've lost a child. It is simply unbearable. I do hope there's a happy place in heaven where these little animals go and romp, lay in the sun, and never be hungry or cold again. That is my prayer.
