#9 An Offhanded Memorial
My Sweet Baby Kitten,
I have discovered a way to remember you, and pay loving tribute to you in a way that doesn't make me cry.
But you're not going to like it.
It is said that memorials aren't for the dead, but for those they leave behind. In that light I defend my actions and this new policy of mine that brings your name to our lips, but not tears to our eyes, nearly every day.
Are you ready?
Okay.
Whenever I fart. I blame it on you.
That's it, that simple. When I expel gas from my ass I say. "Kitten!" in an admonishing tone.
I don't know if you were aware of it, but I would occasionally throw you under the farty bus while you were alive. Why not do it now when you cannot defend yourself. If you did we would rejoice in such a haunting... as soon as we recovered from our heart attacks.
Oh come on, quit pouting. Shouldn't you be pleased to provide me with such a valuable service, if you can recall, many, many times a day. What's important is that I'm thinking of you, and fondly I might add. It's not like you never farted my little furry friend. I offer a haiku written by mommy as evidence:
The kitten farted
All curled up right next to me
Joel would have been proud
Now let me say that I am proud. I was proud of you every day of your life and I am proud of you now. You were an extraordinary feline and I am so grateful you chose my life to drop into.
I'm proud of you for selflessly taking the heat--so to speak--for me then and now. This is healing stuff and you helped, so deal with it and go kill some 200 ft mice or whatever you do in heaven instead of complaining about being the fall guy for my flatulence, a scapegoat for my 'wind chimes', a patsy for my 'poots'.
Love you!
Daddy
I have discovered a way to remember you, and pay loving tribute to you in a way that doesn't make me cry.
But you're not going to like it.
It is said that memorials aren't for the dead, but for those they leave behind. In that light I defend my actions and this new policy of mine that brings your name to our lips, but not tears to our eyes, nearly every day.
Are you ready?
Okay.
Whenever I fart. I blame it on you.
That's it, that simple. When I expel gas from my ass I say. "Kitten!" in an admonishing tone.
I don't know if you were aware of it, but I would occasionally throw you under the farty bus while you were alive. Why not do it now when you cannot defend yourself. If you did we would rejoice in such a haunting... as soon as we recovered from our heart attacks.
Oh come on, quit pouting. Shouldn't you be pleased to provide me with such a valuable service, if you can recall, many, many times a day. What's important is that I'm thinking of you, and fondly I might add. It's not like you never farted my little furry friend. I offer a haiku written by mommy as evidence:
The kitten farted
All curled up right next to me
Joel would have been proud
Now let me say that I am proud. I was proud of you every day of your life and I am proud of you now. You were an extraordinary feline and I am so grateful you chose my life to drop into.
I'm proud of you for selflessly taking the heat--so to speak--for me then and now. This is healing stuff and you helped, so deal with it and go kill some 200 ft mice or whatever you do in heaven instead of complaining about being the fall guy for my flatulence, a scapegoat for my 'wind chimes', a patsy for my 'poots'.
Love you!
Daddy
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