With Dia de los Muertos rapidly approaching I’m thinking a bit about death and my beloved dead and how the death of my current loved ones might effect me. My cat Shirley is getting old. Not the kind of old where I’m worried about her making it to the litter box, but the kind of old where the other cats are picking on her and she yells at me a whole lot. Today I got to thinking, what would I use on a Muertos Altar to represent her. I guess I’d put out some gushy food, but what artifact would I have? What is my favorite thing about her? And then my creepy brain kicked in and I thought, “Maybe I should have her adorable pink tongue preserved in a jar.” Half the time when I’m telling her something it is, “You’ve got a pink tongue.” Her grey fur, black nose, and golden eyes don’t belie that sweet little pink tongue and it really is my favorite thing, especially since I only get to see it while she is giving my my daily dose of yelling.
Later I was relating this to Dave, who is totally used to me being creepy about the things I love, while Shirley was in the room. She casually walked away and right when I said, “I think I’d want her little pink tongue in a jar” she turned around, sat down, and gave me the most cutting look she is capable of (and this cat is capable of great sarcasm). Yes folks, even my cat thinks I’m creepy.
And now that I’ve chased off any potential readership I might have had, Happy National Cat Day everyone! I suppose its good to get this sort of thing out of the way early.
Update: Maybe I was prescient. Maybe I knew that what I thought was a cold was actually terminal cancer. I had to have my sweet Shirley put to sleep on November 11. I did not keep her little pink tongue. I miss her terribly still.