waxing sentimental on Kitty Copper

Copper’s used up his nine lives.

His wick was lit Friday or Saturday and left to burn uninterrupted.

Yesterday at this time Copper had a hole in his head – and don’t we all – maybe 3 inches deep. Of a cat’s nine lives, with 1 being the start, he’s on number 4:

Copper burns slow – as some of us do – until the flame reaches his neck and bowtie. Then the melted wax pools rapidly onto the plate. His lives are numbered.

I take care of chores. When I return, it's over:

I'm looking at the pool, then an object off to the side of the dresser where he'd sat catches my attention:

What's left of his bright orange tie:

Copper’s earthly flame's extinguished – as too will be ours one day. His nine lives were short but good.

And he made the blog, which is more than he could've expected or predicted sitting on the shelf at the Goodwill.

You may take a moment to remember Copper by, ahem, lighting a candle tonight.
 

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