Although Bea did the preparations for us early in the week, J and I finally buried Sad.ie and Memph yesterday afternoon.
Sad.ie had been frozen for almost 2.5 years in a taxidermy snafu. I'd frozen Memphie as soon as I found him last weekend. There was room for little else in my freezer.
Once we got them outside, J wanted to open up the boxes. Sad.ie was as beautiful as the day she died. I remember her looking so horrible then, but she was so luxurious and just as I always wanted to remember, but had not been able. Although I was scared that opening the box would bring her too close, it actually made me feel better.
I wish I had warned J about opening up Memph's box. He was in full rigor when I found him, so it was a rather large box. Rigor is most pronounced in the smaller muscles, so the face is grossly affected. Memph looked like he'd been tortured by demons, but thank goodness J missed most of it by being on the opposite side. I explained about rigor mortis and J didn't have nightmares as far as I know.
Bea's hole in the backyard was perfect and the boxes fit side by side. J and I remarked about what great cats they both were and then we covered them with dirt.
By 11pm, I was crawling out of my skin antsy. I called Bea to tell her that it is taking everything I have to not dig up Sad.ie. She was just fine in my freezer and there was no reason to get rid of her. All day, I'd thought about her new environment, her thawing, her getting invaded, and her box caving in. It is gruesome and morbid.
I know I'm odd. I want to grave rob my own cat. I was fully expecting more cat pee between my pillows.