día de los muertos

[OT from cottage renovations]
 

this is the day on which it is traditional in many cultures to enumerate and remember those who have passed away during the previous year.  although I have neither the practice nor the faith for full participation in this observance it is still worthwhile to take a moment for the purpose. 

of those who were lost over the past twelve months, the three closest to me were cats of long standing in the household (Peaches in January and Chessie last week) and my little sister at the end of May. 

Peaches	part Siamese and all Texas barn cat, Peaches was always happiest in the company of people who came to admire him and shower him with affection.  he showed up late in his life but took quickly to the Grove's feline equivalent of la dolce vita.  he didn't live long enough to enjoy, as he most certainly would have, the cat door installed during this year's remodeling.  he would often sit in the afternoon sun in the front room but if he saw people walking by he would cry piteously to be let out to join them -- the Circle's official greeter.  he is buried in the side yard, in his favourite spot for sunbeams.
Judy	for some of her collected writings see her page at www.pacerfarm.org/judy (start with the note if you didn't already know her).  Halloween was yesterday.  I still haven't gotten used to the long stretches of quiet, no longer punctuated by her many telephone calls.  this past weekend would have been the occasion for reminders about the switching of clocks for the return of standard time as well as the sharing of her plans for Halloween -- festive gatherings, baking treats for friends and laying in trick-or-treat candy for neighbour children (who for the most part didn't show up, leaving her with the difficult and ultimately unsuccessful annual struggle with the caloric temptation of dealing with the inevitable leftovers personally).  Christmas is coming, the holiday with which she was always most closely aligned.  she came here for it last year and had been planning on returning for it this year (she got her dibs in early by calling to make the arrangement in February).  having one without her is inconceivable.  but it is for those who remain to find a way to get through.
Chessie	Chessie came into both cottage and heart 14 years ago, a kitten who had been rescued from a marina on Maryland's western shore but whose first placement hadn't worked out.  other than her first few weeks, she lived here all her life.  her name was an obvious choice, arising in part from her origins as well as from her striking resemblance to the C&O's marketing mascot.  perhaps [certainly] the sweet-kitten effect was slightly [completely] undercut by her acerbic personality.  always the cat with an attitude, her vet used to say of her breed that the correct term would be "crabyssinian".  she certainly had no patience for other cats (though two were also resident) or for conditions not being to her satisfaction.  always the embodiment of feline delicacy and grace, she was a perfectly suited companion.  her mood and expression was more often subtle than direct, but when the occasion might demand she certainly did have access to the legacy of her birthplace in the form of a full nautical vocabulary (from hanging around railroaders I know those words too, but don't use them, so clearly she acquired them before showing up).  but she extended to me a profound degree of trust that I valued for its having been given voluntarily.  it also created a deep responsibility to respect it and to reciprocate in kind.  this did complicate care and treatment decisions as she became ill and as the terminal nature of her condition became clear.  her departure was so very typical, completely on her own terms.  I found it had to take but it would have been much worse for it to have been any other way.  for one so small she leaves behind an enormously disproportionate void.