We got a call yesterday from the vet's office letting us know that James' ashes were ready to be picked up. It's been quite a while since James shuffled off this mortal coil. While Herself felt no burning hurry to be in possession of his cremains, she thought it would be respectful to him to bring them home just the same.
There were a few other people waiting in line to speak with the veterinarian's assistant, and Herself felt slightly self-conscious about asking for James' ashes: public awareness of one's status as Mourning Pet Owner is tricky, for it may elicit the kind of quiet sympathy from pet-owning strangers that releases unexpected ninja-like tears of forgotten grief. Yet, it was fine. She took the tiny tin and escaped unobtrusively out of the clinic's door, composed and just a tiny bit sad.
Rest in peace, James.
Poetry Thursday, courtesy of a friend
1 day ago