Osso, I misread your comment, reading it is as a very poetic "Morning is a kind of music." But it's equally poetic as you intended it: "...mourning is a kind of music."
Art is everywhere.
Osso--
Pacco is gone, but the enduring bones of your ever-faithful ghost dog are starting to flesh out.
Hold your dominion.
Yes, Absolutely agree with Noddy here. Yes.
ossobuco
I wanted you to know I still feel for you.
Heading off to bed now & say "hello" to osso.
Hugs to you, Jo. I hope it's getting easier now.
Sending you a couple of hugs from the north side of Lake Ontario.
It is getting easier, mostly. Well, easier is a word I don't want to parse.
But yesterday was a bump. First of all, it's hot here, and I don't have the swamp cooler on yet. This week the heat has gone through the roof, so, in that respect, the timing was right. But yesterday was when I picked up his ashes.
Ashes...
another whole subject, which I hadn't thought about prior to the minute of decision. With my few other pets, I/we had gone for regular old group disposal, and, indeed, my husband and I thought our cracked old neighbor, the one who used to pick fights with the bongo drummer by hitting her spaghetti pan with a spoon.... was sad and wrecked for always mentioning that she had Fluffer's ashes and was going to be buried with them. I can still hear her calling, "Flullllfffffer, fluff fluff flullllllffffer, ooooh, fllllllluuuuuuffffffer...." -
well, that was of course before the cat died. So, let's say I've been sardonic about ashes and their processing.
But, when the time came, I said ok, I'll take them.
Now they're in my closet.
If I were a woman of money, I might take the ashes back to highway 101, though not right by K-Mart, where he was found by the humane society or, perhaps, first by the city dog catcher -
but maybe to the little beach off of king salmon road, that he had so much fun running with his pals at.
Here, I live by the petroglyphs. However, I doubt he's seen them, he being short and my back wall so high. He might have seen the volcanoes from his crate in the car...
The Rio Grande is near by, but that seems an inherent no-no.
I could plant a tree, and bury his ashes near it, but I'm having trouble keeping my new plants going in this heat.
It amuses me to think of taking the ashes to Rome...
Osso, what IS your temperature there? Here it's 112, but we spend a lot of money on air-conditioning (our house has three and two ceiling fans). It's money well spent.
I've kept the ashes of three pets and my late wife. I have the romantice notion that I will have my ashes mixed with theirs, assuming they would have liked that.
I dunno about the ashes thing; he is not in them. It is my sentiment that is in them. I chose them in a reactive No to a group cremation. (waaaaaah!)
Put the ashes in your garden, Osso. You don't have to keep them in an urn on the mantle. As you said, they are not him. When I put my dog down, many years ago, I had her cremated just because I wanted her to have some dignity in the end, not discarded like trash. I didn't collect her ashes, though. As far as I was concerned that was the end of her.
I hope that doesn't come across as harsh. I didn't mean it that way.
ah, the ashes. I have my cat's (the diabetic one's sister) and my Boo. I have thought a lot about this. It doesn't make sense for me to put them in my garden, or in my parents' garden - I won't have access to them forever in those places. I'm going to sprinkle them around Mt Auburn and or Forest Hills. They're cemeteries, I like going there, they are protected by laws and regulations and will be there long after I am gone (unless something very very tragic happens). But, I'll wait until screech passes and mix them together before I sprinkle.
No, not harsh, Swimp. Indeed that has always been my thought on the matter.
My reaction this time was to take them and then deal with it - I had a slamdown on having him in with the crowd. Nothing rational, an emotional wailing NO.
Pacco is, well, y'all know, in my heart, alive and looking at me, or, of course, off barking, moving ahead like a catapulting tank. The ashes confuse me, but I couldn't do otherwise. Not that I'll toss them willy nilly. I had decided on the garden, but I'll wait until it isn't entirely the land of burning sand (what year will that be?)
Maybe I'll keep them until I go to California in winter.
Diane and Dys gave me a rose to plant, 'Moondance', Diane said, in Pacco's honor. I looked it up, of course, it's a blockbuster rose. Chances of it thriving planted by me now aren't all that great. I may work with that, or some other plant that makes it, but use some vessel that I can dig up if I choose...
Or, I dunno, not. It's sand here, sand, sand, sand. All filters on down...
and that makes sense too. Maybe I'm not as attached to this land yet - I'm a bit iffy, while I wax on about Pacco not being in the ashes. Pacco was, y'know, Welsh......
Little K, I understand. I don't have any sense of forever or even a bunch of years here. I understand your love of Mount Auburn. (I know you know my family lived across the street in the old old days, my mother born in that house at the edge of Watertown.)
Spackle the cat is still buried in my old Venice yard...
In the meantime, Mikey's impressed pillow still gets to me..
Don't know what to say about the ashes. I can understand but not relate--if that makes sense. You'll find the right thing to do with them. You'll know because you'll know.
Started several comments/statements/sentences about Mikey's kneading pillow. Deleted them.
Pacco isn't in the ashes; he's in your head. Mikey is in my head. The pillow conjures up precious mental images. Silly sentimental stuff. Personal and special.
Hey, osso, how are you doing this morning? Thinking of you.
Osso, there is a woman here that makes jewelry out of ashes. if you're interested, I'll see if I can find her contact name.
Jespah, I'm fine really.
Swimpy, eeeeek! Thanks, anyway!
On Pacco being a Welsh Corgi - the coastal California land where I first got him was not so unlike Wales, I don't think. That may give me more incentive to go back and visit and do some ash distribution. We'll see, as time passes.
I should have been more clear. She turns the ash into glass, I think. I saw some pictures and they are quite pretty.
Another suggestion, you may or may not like - what about mixing his ashes in concrete and making a stepping stone for the garden?
