I have tried hard to handle things here by myself for months. In the last month, I've had to cop to my limitations and send up the bat signal for help on at least two occasions. My neighbor's son has mowed my grass a total of three times so far, and each time I feel more and more indebted to him. Last night, after Cricket passed, I had to call out for help again. One of my bonfire friends came over today to help me lay her to rest. In fact, she ended up doing all the digging, in the sweltering heat. Fortunately, Cricket's final resting place ended up being in dappled shade during that part of the day, else I'm not sure we could have achieved our task.
Since the late winter, when I first started letting the whole Pride outside, Cricket would immediately run around to the side of the Park where the canna lilies grow. Every time I needed to round them up to go inside, I would collect her last, because I always knew where I would find her. She was there so often, I started asking her whether that was where she wanted to be buried when the time came. I really didn't expect it to be so soon. She seemed so supremely happy there, I had to assume that she really did want to be there forever. Later in the spring, she spent a lot of time hiding in the thicket, but that seemed to be a way to escape from the younger cats who picked on her, ultimately leading to her being granted her own principality upstairs, months ago. I only entertained the notion of placing her in the thicket for an instant. It would have been too hard to dig in, and it was more of a hiding place than a favorite hangout. After Torden died two months ago, and I placed him beside the garage, on the outside of the fence, I started imagining that I would put Cricket down from him, in the next available planting spot, where I could put an American Beauty Berry bush over her, as I put the Rose of Sharon on Torden. (My friend who helped me dig gave me both of these plants as a gift.) I leaned toward using the garage spot, just to be sure the dogs would leave her alone. But this morning, as I made plans and waited for my girlfriend to arrive, the man reminded me of my promise to Crickie to put her in the cannas. We looked at both sites, and my friend agreed, that she should go where she was most happy. She all but asked for it, and honoring her last wish was the least I could do.
After the burial, while I was home alone, I got a delivery of flowers. It took my breath away when I read the card, how understanding was the sentiment, and how beautiful was the gesture. My younger daughter sent her condolences, and asked me to put a rose on Crickie's grave, and a daisy on Torden's for her. And she reminded me that I am, indeed, still a poopyhead. Technically, the flowers that arrived included mums, not daisies, but that was a little creative license at the florist's from what came on the card. They were undeniably beautiful, and as with my promise to Cricket, I did exactly as my daughter asked. And then I went and bought myself some groceries, since I have barely eaten in the last couple days, along with a bottle of red wine, and twelve lottery tickets for the drawing to come within the hour. I don't really expect to win anything, but I felt like buying one for each year she was alive. I needed to do some sort of gesture like that. In between the moment I found her last night, and when I collected her and placed her in the freezer, I also did a little nail art in her honor. It was said recently that if she ever could have signed her name (and we used her official name "Georgia"), she would have made it full of loops and swirls, and she would have dotted the i with a daisy. She was just that much of a girly-girl. So I painted all of my nails bright magenta, and put little daisies on my thumbs and big toes. It seemed like the best way to be able to think about her all the time, every moment my hands were in view. As if I could ever forget her.
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