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6 September 2000

The quarter-plus moon is bright in the southwest; the stars are shining, Spica a blue fire. The air is cold and clear, and the mist is rising on the water, swirling and curling like dancing ghosts in the shifting breeze. The sky is a deep and glowing blue... the color reminds me of eyes. Eyes the color of night.

This morning I buried another cat. I found her in the street last night when I came home from Ma's. The body was still warm, but she was quite and very dead-- instantly dead, I think. There was only a dab of blood at her mouth and a scrape on her muzzle. I put her body on the porch to await daylight and proper burial. She was a handsome animal. But there was no collar.

And that's how I started my day: performing the last offices for another cat. It's fitting, I suppose, that this falls to me. I am an ordained minister, after all. But it bothers me that cats keep dying in my yard lately. It's got me a bit nervous. Now, before I start t'ai chi practice, I look carefully to be sure there aren't any dead animals down there.

At least the other cat has company now, there beneath the garden wall.


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