The Swan Song is at hand...

I think Ernest the Cat is finally dying. He's acting a bit strange this morning. He's got that staring off into space thing going on, and I just watched him take an eternity to lay down. Maybe it's just the cool morning, but it seems like something more. Will he make to New Year's?

I think I will have him cremated. I had a roommate for a semester in college who had an entire not so little shrine by her bed for her departed dog, complete with a little metal box containing the ashes, his blanket, photos, and toys. It seemed odd at the time. Really, she was a bit weird about it. In addition, she could only eat with plastic utensils because she could "taste the metal." To me at 21, this all came across as a bit affected and strange. I was glad Wendy had to share a room with her and not me. I lucked out with a single for an entire month, until the "problem student" had to be moved from whatever quad she had been in to our apartment. I ended up sharing a room with a tiny little gymnast who literally looked like a troll doll. Cute, but with a tan, squishy face and a shock of hair that stood on end. Her boyfriend, whom she gave BJ's to while he drove them around Boston (Hello! TMI...I said TMI!!!!!!!) would actually call her Troll Doll. We would then have to say, "No!!! You don't look like a troll doll at all! He's just teasing you!" But she did.

All because I wouldn't share a room with the pretty, quiet blond girl with the Dog Shrine a foot from her head when she slept.

15 years later, I'm contemplating little metal boxes to store the ashes of my ancient cat. We have also talked about a Viking Funeral at the beach for Ernest, but didn't think we could get the fire hot enough to truly cremate him, instead of just roasting his carcass. Perhaps we will go up to the beach in Malibu or Ventura and scatter his ashes.

I just bought a new bag of cat food. I usually buy the giant 18 pound bag that last for months. They only had the 8 pound bag in stock. Prophetic? We shall see.