not a speck of cereal

I walk down the sidewalk and pass, sitting out among the trash to be taken away, a large and lavishly framed cross stitch of a cat atop a vine covered wall, on which the inscription: "In memory of beloved Pearly, 1986-1991."

And I wonder: which died first?  The love for this pet, the tolerance for the cross stitch memorial, or the owner? 

Pitiful, really, and a reminder of Morris's Gates of Heaven, which is one of those treatments that transcends its subject. 

And that pitiful, beautiful name!  Pearly.  Only a cat lover would name a cat...that.