Something was in the air tonight. As Tootle and I snuggled in bed, Tootle said, "Doodle says that if I put out just my middle finger it means a bad word. What word does it mean? Is it hate? Is it stupid?"
An hour later as Opal the cat helped to tuck in Doodle, Doodle stroked her beloved cat and asked: "What are we going to do with Opal's fur?" I looked puzzled, so Doodle added, "You know when she dies." It appears that Doodle thinks we should have the cat stuffed, a la Sorrow, the stuffed dog that floats in John Irving's The Hotel New Hampshire. We talked about burial and cremation but Doodle is still in favor of taxidermy. I just did a google search, and it appears that you can freeze dry your dead pet. I hope that Opal is with us for years to come and that Doodle doesn't revisit this topic for some time. Death was probably on Doodle's mind because we learned this afternoon that our former pastor just died, only a few weeks after being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and four months after leaving our church for a new assignment. He was in his 50s. I hugged the girls extra tight tonight (despite our rather unusual conversations).
Cotton Candy Sky
9 years ago