Yesterday I was dragging a fallen tree off our stone wall to use for firewood when I noticed something unusual.  Jasper was grunting and sceeching, wanting to point out the large mushrooms glued to the bottom of the trunk, and I bent down to confirm with him.  I noticed they were artist conchs and touched their smooth white underside. I found a hunk of white gold hair stuck to it, and when I held in my hands I sucked in my breath.  I felt sure it was my lost kitty, bubba’s.  I wondered if he was there when it all went down?  Or if that had just been a resting place in the sun one day before he met his match.  I searched around the area  a bit for any other clues but I didn’t find any.

I search when we are on a milk walk.  I search when we are wandering the woods.  I hate not knowing what happened to him.

We had a little ceremony for him last saturday, right before Lee left for a big long trip.  It was short and sweet.  We placed a gravestone by out hammock so we could hang out in the sun with him.  We said a few words about his sweet demeanor.  And about how he has been there to welcome all our babies.  Then we turned to walk away.  As we did, the very first snowflakes fell.    They kissed our cheeks and eyelids and we sighed in relief.

I brought in the last bouquet of cosmos before the hard frost came and sucked the color out of them.  We piled our basement full of squash and onions and carrots.  We planted our garlic.  We stacked more wood.  We have begun to have a fire in our wood stove pretty regularly now too.  It feels good to all be cozied up together, and I can’t help it, whenever the moment is just so, I look around and I forget my sweet, fat cat is gone.  He loved the wood stove.  He would practically bake beneath it.

RIP Chief Conanicus aka “bubba” February 14, 2006-September 27, 2015

You were the coziest thing I have known. I miss you so, so much. Until we meet again!