(a) She's dead, wrapped in plastic; or.....
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The Burp - yes, The Burp! remember her? - rang me to tell me that she'd had to have her wonderful and unpredictably violent cat, Gypsy, put down. Knowing what a soft spot I had for old fangface, she thought I should know the feline's fate. Apparently the boys were quite upset by this latest blow, it having been another upsetting blow in an upsetting and blowful year for them. The Burp decided not to bury Gyspy in the backyard of their present house since they will be moving on from there eventually. She decided that the old girl - the cat! - should be buried out on the family farm, where other beloved pets are interred. Then it was just a matter of keeping the body cool. There was no room in the freezer, so The Enterprising Burp wrapped Gypsy in a couple of garbage bags and kept her in the fridge for a few days. When it came time to drive to the farm, several hours away, she dumped a bag of ice in an esky and wrestled the by now stiff and uncompromising body into it. As she told me this I had a vision of the esky wedged between Bay Leaf and Machiavelli in the back seat, four furry feet sticking up into the air, ever-defiant.
Boy oh boy, I can't wait for our next picnic together. I hope it's on a really warm day.
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.....(b) just say no to the casserole surprise at The Burp's house!
1 comment:
Poor Gypsy.
I buried a deep frozen cat once. It wasn't really the heartfelt good-bye for lovely old Ginger my sister and I had planned.
We had to wait until our parents went out to dug a hole in the backyard because Mum had told us she was going to put him out on bin night. Even now I can't believe she was really going to do that.
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