We buried Monster yesterday, almost fourteen years to the day after he jumped into my little red Mazda pickup and slept on my sweater while I worked the one and only lunch served by that fine establishment. He was a good cat: a presence of comfort in times of sorrow, a pillowcase playmate at the clothesline, a fellow afficionado of a good hot fire in the woodstove. Rest in peace, Sir Monster Fatbutt.
And I'm curious to see how the next week (!) will play out. I do like this moonflow of time. From new to full to new again. What are my intentions? How will I manifest them? How will I refine them? I like, too, that the next full moon is also Ursula's birthday: heavenly support for the journey I share with her.
