In Which I Relate a Sweet and Funny Story

Humph. Vomit under the desk indeed. Nope, that's it, I'm sulking......or snoozing.....I forget which is which.

A while ago I posted about my stepfather having a death in his family. His son died under very bad circumstances, and he has had a rough time dealing with it. On Saturday, they had a scattering of the ashes ceremony on my stepbrother's farm, which was an occasion fraught with tension due to the presence of my stepfather's Out-Of-Her-Fucking-Mind exwife. However, she behaved herself. The same cannot be said for my stepbrother's cat.

Some background: Minnie used to belong to my mum and stepdad, but they gave her to my stepbrother when they went off around Australia for a year. Minnie adapted blissfully to life on a multi acre property. Minne is a spectacularly beautiful silver tabby - just about the prettiest kitty I've ever laid eyes on. But, as is often the way of these things, Minnie is what we in Australia call "as thick as two short planks". Gorgeous, but nobody home.

Anyhoo, this is my mum's account of the ceremony, in which Minnie saw no reason why she should be left out of the proceedings:

"You will not be surprised to learn that Mini refused to be left out of things. Followed us all down to the area where the ashes burial was to be held (a very nice spot at *stepbrother's* place), and during the Vicar's nice words, Mini was investigating the hole awaiting the ashes, sniffing at the pile of dirt (I was terrified she was going to pee in the dirt), and then when the Vicar threw a handful of dirt on the little casket in the hole, Mini was about to jump in to chase the dirt when the Vicar threw her a piece of dirt of her own to play with. She then wandered about smooching up to everyone, and even ended up being sprinkled with holy water. *Stepfather's grandsons* were delighted and said that their father would have thought Mini was the best part of the whole service.

Now isn't that just the typical cat???

Good thing for the day: Only. Four. More. Working. Days. Until. Two. Weeks. Vacation.
Bad thing for the day: I have errands to run at lunchtime. A coworker is selfishly leaving to go to a better job and I will miss him. To that end, I am going out at lunchtime to buy him a nice bottle of absinthe. Trust me, he'll love it. He's freaky like that.