Like Clockwork

Fruity birthed five darling kittens AGAIN this spring.  The girls kept asking me to take pictures of them, but I never got around to it.  (As Grandma Manwaring told my mom, "Was-Going-To never did nothin,'" and she was right.  I never do nothin'.)

So, of course, it follows that last week the girls discovered one of the kittens cold and stiff, mysteriously departed from this life.  It was Piper's kitten, and she was disconsolate for the day.  I didn't realize how upset she was until my parents dropped in and asked if Piper was sad. "Why?" I asked.  When they pulled in the driveway, she was sitting by the lower garden, still wearing her nightgown and with her head in her hands, and she stayed there for the whole visit.  Why the lower garden? 

Well, because that's where I dug the grave which the girls had festooned with flowers that morning.

Annie and Pip wanted me to take a picture of the bouquet they made for the gravesite.

I'd even taken a quick snapshot of the ceremony, during which the girls had placed the surviving kitten-siblings on the grave "to say goodbye."

If not a happy ending, this tale at least has a reasonable one.  Piper, after comfort and cuddles on the couch, soothed her grief with one of the four remaining beasties (three of which, I feel compelled to mention, are available for adoption!).