Shoebox

The shoebox was empty when I took this picture.  (It is important that you know this.)

I'm not sure what shoes came in this box, but they were probably a pair of Jenna's.  I like the box because the lid is part of the box.  And it's black.

I chose the box today for something important.  The box is now a little coffin.  If I am correct in my belief system, my sweet cat Cassie is right now chasing mice through fields of gold with her brother Bryce.  My old dogs, Mack and Killian, are messing up the hunt with their noisy forays into the brush, but Cassie is intent on the kill, and she will not be denied.



But her small and furry earthly body is now contained within the box and buried in the ground.  I secured the gravesite with two 3-foot pieces of 2 X 12 pressure-treated wood and piled several orange-mottled pieces of fieldstone on top.  A makeshift marker sits on the boards, a lidded planter with a ceramic cat curled up on top.  I can see the grave from my kitchen window.  It sits right behind the Buddha bench, a favorite resting spot of Cassie's.  I cannot say with any certainty that Cassie followed the teachings of Buddha, but I wouldn't be surprised.  The Four Noble Truths seem to speak to her most recent existence on this planet.

The Buddha in the picture is the Traveling Buddha.  Although I have grounded him in terra cotta, you can see his whimsical joy of adventure in the jewelry he chooses, Mardi Gras beads from New Orleans.  Cassie knows how I love to travel, and she has now given me leave to do so.

The burial was a solitary activity for me, the only way I would want it.  The late afternoon was raw and overcast, and my hands were numb with cold as I shoveled the dirt on top of the shoebox.  Thirteen years of love were contained within that box, so I was gentle with the shoveling.

Thirteen years of love.  In a shoebox.  In my memory.  In my heart.  I love you, Cassie girl.