My Nashville office is in a house in a commercially zoned neighborhood. There is a small grove of trees separating the back yard from a very large cemetery. In the winter we often catch graveside services out our back window.
The office also has a cat, Shelby, who has lived with me at various locations, but now calls Iris Drive his home. Because I travel so much, he gets more love living at the office where Cindy and Karla work 5 days a week.
Shelby frequently cats around in the back yard, sunbathes in the front. And sometimes doesn't come back when we're ready to leave. Like today. Cindy was heading out for lunch when she remembered she hadn't seen Shelby since she arrived at 8:30a. So she stuck her head out the front door and hollered for him. "Here, kitty, kitty." No reply.
Then she stuck her head out the back door and shouted at the top of her lungs, "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty! Shelby!" At that moment, a voice came from the tree line, "Ma’am, we’re having a funeral over here."
So anyway, we're holding Cindy's funeral Thursday (Shelby's too, if he doesn't come back). Cause of death: mortification.
