I picked up Pyewacket's ashes today. I didn't think it would make me cry, but it did, a little. I think it was the "blankie" that did it.
I had laid her to rest in a cardboard box that I'd saved, and before I put her body in there, I put in a piece of fake sheepskin fabric that we'd had up in Bob's office for her. I didn't expect them to give it back, but when the receptionist came back this morning with the box of ashes, she had the fabric, too, washed and folded for me.
The little box was labeled "Pyewacket Cline," and there was a certificate in an envelope from the cemetery/crematorium. We have a pewter urn with Doña's ashes in it, but I couldn't remember how that came about. With the online journal, though, I could look it up! About eleven years ago, I wrote:
Today I went to the post office to pick up a certified letter, then to the animal hospital. I ordered a small pewter urn for Doña's ashes from the pet cemetary. They said if I dropped off the ashes the driver would transfer them into the urn tomorrow when he comes by the hospital, and seal it for me, and then I can pick it up tomorrow or Saturday.
So, I don't know if I'm going to do that this time or not, but I'll think about it. Bob said he doesn't want me to spend the money, but I may do it anyway.
When he got home from work tonight, the box was sitting on the table, and he said "What's that?" And I said, "Pyewacket." He said, "Oh, good! That makes me feel better. She's home."
