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Pete's weekend
Aug. 11th, 2008 12:15 pmWe buried Claude in the back yard, beside the various cats and guinea-pigs that shared our lives. I put a couple of tiles over his body, so if in future years I need to dig again, I'll leave his bones unjostled.
Here lie all the cats we've ever owned:
Janis and Sagan from the first days of our marriage, when we moved into a house that allowed cats. Burmese littermates, they were the companions for our infants, and would often curl up in a ball together on a cold night.
Rosie the cinnamon Abyssinian, she of the heartstopping beauty. In theory, she was DD's cat, but she was closest to me, and as she grew old and frail, she'd always be close, climbing onto my shoulders, and when she could no longer do that, sitting on a nearby chair. If I took an afternoon nap, she'd share the pillow.
And now Claude.
I couldn't say anything as I filled in the grave. I'll miss him immensely, but not as much as DD, who loved him wholeheartedly.
In due course, we'll find a couple of kittens who will be companions for each other. Having cats that don't get along is a strain. For a while we had three, an elderly Sagan, a feisty Rosie, and a playful Claude-kitten. Claude would pounce on Sagan as he snoozed in the sun, and didn't really make his final months too restful. Rosie spat and snarled at the other two, and Claude was just full of mischief. He grew into his strength and feared nobody.
Kerri and I then got into the car and drove northaways out of Canberra, skirting sydney on that wonderful M7 ringroad, and found our motel at Belmont, overlooking Lake Macquarie, where other family members were gathering.
A sixtieth birthday party for an uncle-in-law, and after we knocked off a six-pack and tidied up, we were off in three taxis to the party.
A band took over the living room, an outside area was set aside for the catered roast, and we mingled and talked and later danced into the night.
I wasn't as much company as I could have been - I was tired, and was seriously considering finding a place to curl up and snooze out for a bit. If we'd driven, i would have snuck away, cranked back the seat, and had one of my taxidriver power naps.
But I soldiered on, didn't drink a real lot, had a good time, and when the opportunity came, after the cake was cut around ten thirty, we loaded Kerri's father into a taxi and went back to the motel.
Cold evening and a colder morning. There were nine of us at breakfast, which we had at Deck 56, a restaurant overlooking the lake. I went for the full vegetarian grill, which included a mound of smoked salmon, baked beans, mushies and rocket. And other stuff. A grand meal, washed down with a skinny latte for balance.
Then we all embraced and dispersed, back to New South Wales, Queensland and Canberra. It's freeway just about all the way, and as we went past Goulburn, we got flurries of snow. On the other carriageway there were cars off the road - a string of them scattered with police in attendance, so I guess one had slowed for slippery and others had dominoed in. Or something. We made it safely home.
Here lie all the cats we've ever owned:
Janis and Sagan from the first days of our marriage, when we moved into a house that allowed cats. Burmese littermates, they were the companions for our infants, and would often curl up in a ball together on a cold night.
Rosie the cinnamon Abyssinian, she of the heartstopping beauty. In theory, she was DD's cat, but she was closest to me, and as she grew old and frail, she'd always be close, climbing onto my shoulders, and when she could no longer do that, sitting on a nearby chair. If I took an afternoon nap, she'd share the pillow.
And now Claude.
I couldn't say anything as I filled in the grave. I'll miss him immensely, but not as much as DD, who loved him wholeheartedly.
In due course, we'll find a couple of kittens who will be companions for each other. Having cats that don't get along is a strain. For a while we had three, an elderly Sagan, a feisty Rosie, and a playful Claude-kitten. Claude would pounce on Sagan as he snoozed in the sun, and didn't really make his final months too restful. Rosie spat and snarled at the other two, and Claude was just full of mischief. He grew into his strength and feared nobody.
Kerri and I then got into the car and drove northaways out of Canberra, skirting sydney on that wonderful M7 ringroad, and found our motel at Belmont, overlooking Lake Macquarie, where other family members were gathering.
A sixtieth birthday party for an uncle-in-law, and after we knocked off a six-pack and tidied up, we were off in three taxis to the party.
A band took over the living room, an outside area was set aside for the catered roast, and we mingled and talked and later danced into the night.
I wasn't as much company as I could have been - I was tired, and was seriously considering finding a place to curl up and snooze out for a bit. If we'd driven, i would have snuck away, cranked back the seat, and had one of my taxidriver power naps.
But I soldiered on, didn't drink a real lot, had a good time, and when the opportunity came, after the cake was cut around ten thirty, we loaded Kerri's father into a taxi and went back to the motel.
Cold evening and a colder morning. There were nine of us at breakfast, which we had at Deck 56, a restaurant overlooking the lake. I went for the full vegetarian grill, which included a mound of smoked salmon, baked beans, mushies and rocket. And other stuff. A grand meal, washed down with a skinny latte for balance.
Then we all embraced and dispersed, back to New South Wales, Queensland and Canberra. It's freeway just about all the way, and as we went past Goulburn, we got flurries of snow. On the other carriageway there were cars off the road - a string of them scattered with police in attendance, so I guess one had slowed for slippery and others had dominoed in. Or something. We made it safely home.
