Yesterday, Rob and I picked Maggie’s body up from the vet, where they’d been holding her in the freezer. Yep, Maggie the Catsicle. You can tell we are feeling better because the gallow’s humor has emerged.
We got on the motorcycle and went to upstate NY where some friends of ours had generously offered a corner of their backyard. We were both braced for this to be a really hard trip, but it wasn’t. I think the whole burial ritual, or funeral ritual in whatever context, evolved because you really need that sort of closure to get on with things. Even if the creature you are mourning is a small fuzzy gray cat.
While we were back there, Mrs. L– beckoned us and said “Look! Racoons!”
Rob kept digging, but I went over to look, and sure enough there was a family of mama and two baby racoons coming out of their garage. Mama and one of the babies hightailed it across the lawn.
The other one wandered over to check out what Rob was doing. It stood up on its hind legs, about two feet in front of him as if to say, “Hi there! What are you doing?”
This amused all of us, while at the same time, being glad that Rob had a shovel just in case Mama decided to feel protective. Rob waved at the little guy, who dropped back down to his haunches.
Then stood up again. “Whatcha working on? Huh?”
Sadly, attempts to establish a true cross-species dialog didn’t proceed past that and the little fellow trundled off to his mother, who probably said, “How many times have I told you not to talk to strangers?”
Sorry that the photo is as fuzzy as the racoon. It was awfully cute and a nice place to leave Maggie.
We spent the night and then had a leisurely morning up there. Rode back today, taking the scenic route.