Two Eulogies

Well...I'm in the business of memorializing the journey to Valhalla once again. The House of Strange Noises, my recently former place of residence, is down two animals.

The first, an Australian shepherd named Corky. A creaky old thing of 17 years with brilliant white cataracts and a propensity for getting stuck under the couch at nights. His helpless wails and arthritic shuffle finally brought to light an obvious yet painful answer that demanding my close friend's acceptance, and in the late hours of last week, Corky received a mercy injection and went on to meet his fathers in the Great Hall. He is most likely feeling much better after having been plied with ripe meat and as much mead as his now ulcerless stomach could accommodate. It is a long-awaited, long-dreaded fare-thee-well I must extend to him with best wishes attached and similar remembrances.

The second is for my cat, Desdemona, the cleverest little cunt to ever roam the Chicago suburbs. She was found last night lying dead in a nearby cemetery, not mangled by a sadistic predator but bluntly done in by the treads of a designer tire as the first nips of autumn crept into the air. How long she lay dying after collapsing in the graveyard, I can't say, but I hope she passed quickly and without a great deal of pain.

Walls had never kept her well, and it was only a matter of time until she met with the business end of the outside world. The one year she roamed this earth was one without the fardel of domestication weighing her spirit. Lord knows, we tried to talk sense into her, but she refused to remain anything but feral until the end and must be respected and loved for it.

She was the only animal I could ever call my own, and perhaps I erred in bestowing upon her a name that could not escape the fate attached to it. For this, I apologize.

Sleep well the both of you.