How to Keep a Dead Cat In Your Freezer
Four white lies about death.
There’s a dead cat in my freezer. Actually, I should say there was a dead cat in my freezer —aspirational past tense. I’m trying to be optimistic. By the time you read this, I’m hoping there won’t be.
Maybe it’s a good thing…
His name was Bradley, a stray our neighbor adopted. I remember meeting him a few years ago when we moved in. He walked right into the empty house and introduced himself. We became friends. Most afternoons, he took naps in a flower pot in our driveway. We’re keeping him in the freezer now because our neighbor’s power was knocked out by a storm, and she doesn’t know where to bury him yet. It’s the least we can do.
Our three-year-old daughter has never known a day without Bradley. When she heard about the accident, she asked, “Is he going to get better?” Then she started crying. Now she won’t go to sleep.
She hugs me and says, “I’m scared.”
We all think we’re ready for death. We think it’s enough to read a book about it, or keep a collection of pithy quotes.
We’re not. Most of us can’t even get to bed on time.
How are we ready for death?
