from the past:Sweet Caesar, my old cat, was laid to rest yesterday. The vet came to my house and put him gently to sleep while I held him in my arms. The neighbor kids came last night and brought some flowers for his grave. He is buried behind the bench that Bel made for our garden. I couldn’t sit on that bench for a moment, and he would be there, purring loudly, wanting to be in my lap, but content if I only wanted him beside me.
He represents unconditional love to me, total commitment, he was always there, beside me in the bed, always choosing to be in whatever space I was in at the moment. Except the car, perhaps, which he hated. Which is why is insisted that the vet come to my house. No more car rides, Caesar, no more trips to the vet.
I know you are beside me in spirit, as always.
There is a very special day here on the lake…I call it “Frog Day”. It happens every spring, usually around mid-March, but this year I kept listening for them and they didn’t come. On this very wondrous day, the sun comes out and everything smells different, it is warm and the night is slow in coming for a change. The earth smells like damp moss and dirt and all things magic going on unseen. Then, late in the evening, after it is dark, I hear the frogs. The lake has finally melted and warmed enough that they are awake. It is a sound like childhood, or neighborhoods never lived in but remembered, a sound of new beginnings and summers to come. It is as reassuring as the sun rising every morning when it comes. Las night, sitting on the bench Bel made by Caesar’s grave, I heard the frogs. It was Frog Day.
The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales 