Stormy Love

This is Stormy.
The wise owl cat, always spreading his gentle love.
Sweetest cat ever to live.

He has been bringing joy to our lives since 1997.


He died yesterday and I miss him so much.












I even miss his sick time. He was a joy to care for, the most patient, enduring, loving being. He was a wise teacher, better at being full of kindness than any human I know.






I know he is forever in the sunshine now.
We had a funeral for him today and sent him on his journey.
But oh, how I miss him.

Comments

JMay said…
Aww, RIP little guy.

Losing animals are so hard-positive thoughts your way!

xo.
January 4, 2010 at 3:51 PM
mattbeatty said…
these pictures make me sad. the good sweet little fellow.
February 1, 2010 at 6:37 PM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Tuesdays in my Town - Buck's Bar on the Cosumnes River

Image
Okay, not to turn this into "my favorite river spots" or anything...but it just hit 100 degrees here and i had the pleasure on saturday of going with some of my favorite people to one of our...yes indeed i can't resist.... favorite river spots .  since i talk about the river a lot, all summer long, i figured i'd go ahead and show you all this particular spot for this week's "Tuesdays in my Town." so, my town placerville (aka p-ville, peevs, and infamously "old hangtown") is actually located between two beautiful rivers coming out of the sierra nevada mountains: the american river to our north and the cosumnes river to our south. my friends and i have spots we prefer on both rivers, depending on the day, the kind of hike you want to do, and the month of the year. on saturday we drove out toward somerset down buck's bar road to the bridge and hiked out to the perfect june swimming hole in the cosumnes river, which, by the way, i r
Read more

"I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin..."

Image
I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belong to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air, Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same, I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, Hoping to cease not till death. It struck me, when I read Song of Myself several years ago, that thirty-seven years old , that magical Whitmanesque age, was still in the future for me. How exciting that felt! To know that this wonderful age that was such a pure and boisterous beginning for the bard, was something I could look forward to. To know that I could set forth on new adventures, and sing the praises of the earth, and be wild and merry and voluptuous and bold. Now and forever. and especially at 37. And so suddenly I am here! That lu
Read more

handmade homes take to the open road

Image
i want this to be us so bad...rollin away in a fairytale bus made of wood and wheels, porch and books. this is from another book in the series of rad 70s handmade house books that i've written about before and missa wrote about here  ( raddest houseboats ever, ever, ever ) this one is all about handmade hippie houses on the road. we have it at the bookery in the locked case; it's a collectible and thus way out of my price range. but i still get to look at its gloriousness. these photos of the pages look much better than mine, found in this wonderful little delight here , check these caravans out: standing in the mist with its little terra cotta pots and windowpanes, killing this fairytale heart a mine. i can picture joey and emily in this one, our neighbors. and this one can house addie and art, and we'll drive cross the prairies together. this covered-wagon one seems the most fun of all. roll back the canvas and sleep
Read more