(As the title suggests, I'm not the only Thomas Gray who has written on this subject, even if my cat did not die in a tub of gold fishes...)
Yesterday marked one year since Elektra was run over by a car and killed.
Accepting the death of somebody or something very close to you - even if it is a family pet - is one thing; "getting over it" is something entirely different. Lori and I still miss her. We miss her purrs, we miss her gentle meows, we miss her rubbing our legs and flopping upside-down on our feet. I suspect we always will.
On a happier note, the shumard oak in our front yard that mark's Elektra's resting place is doing very well, in spite of the insects that occasionally munch on its leaves. Lori has since planted crysanthemums and dusty millers around the sapling, creating an attractive landscape feature in our yard. Elektra's tag still hangs from the young tree's trunk; Kirby runs up to it to play with it almost every time he's in the front yard.
Speaking of anniversaries, not all of them need be painful: tomorrow will mark eleventh anniversary of Lori and I meeting in person for the first time.
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