(no subject)

[spatch]

I cannot say with any great veracity that I am a fan of Talk Like A Pirate Day. A few years back, people would write to Abbie asking if Martha, the pirate cat herself (so named because she was fond of perching on my shoulder like a parrot) knew of the day and wondering how she was going to celebrate it. Martha's response, however, was always something along the lines of the following, in her typical writing style:

I have heard about the day but I do not understand it.
I can talk like a pirate any day I want.
And I do.
So I don't need a special day for it.

The little enigma always had a pragmatic view on things, I do admit, and I always enjoyed discovering her opinions and how she'd explain them.

But that's the other thing. This day is just too damn close to Martha leaving. Two years ago on Talk Like A Pirate Day, she was quietly dying, in the last stages of liver failure. Five days later, she was gone.

I'm not trying to lapse back into the maudlin here, but you'll pardon me if I'm not quite so crazy about the day. There may be a bunch of Gosling's tossed back in her honor over the weekend, but that's as far as I'll go.

Comments

[amandaruth2001.livejournal.com]

I remember the posts from when you brought home those two little sibling kittens. I can't believe it's already been two years, too. Your tribute to Martha remains one of the most touching things I've ever read, postpartum hormonal surges notwithstanding.

She looks remarkably like our Mathilda, but for the little white hairs on her chest.

[phonemonkey.livejournal.com]

Your little black cat looks an awful lot like my little black cat. I think they do it to confuse us.