I didn't really know Kramer. The cat. But I buried him, today.
A hard life as a semi-stray in the furnace of a South Mississippi summer took him at a relatively early age. Glenda tried to help. Cindy tried. The vet tried. But there's only so much they could do for a cat on its last legs. In the end, nature ran its course.
The ceremony was low key and subdued. I changed into some comfortable clothes. Glenda picked an appropriate locating, on a shaded knoll that Kramer frequented. Cindy respectfully transported the body. And I dug the grave.
Brutal heat. Lots of sweat. Glenda thanking me quietly the whole time. My sweltering hot workout concluded. The ladies said a few kind words. Shared a story or three about Kramer. Then put flowers on the lid. And sprinkled some dirt on top. Once I was done, they marked the site with an iron sculpture of a butterfly. Added an old stone from Glenda's mother's house.And there resides Kramer. The cat. Rest in peace, Kramer. You deserve it. You were a good cat.
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