When George died is a short poem about a cat who changed my life…
When George died,
every cat in the universes
stopped purring for precisely one second.
The change in vibrations never reversed.
More from a morning’s inspiration…
When George died is one of those inspirations that swept into my mind while I’m taking a shower.
I don’t know. I must’ve been thinking about the beloved people I watched pass out of existence, and some quick epigrams popped up.
First, it was my father, and of course, George was not “people.” George was a cat, and he shared his life with us for 15 years.
Every pet companion believes his or her cat, dog, horse, etc. is exceptional, and I’ll stake that claim too.
All are exceptional because, like people, they are original, unique characters, unforgettable if you genuinely respect them and their differences.
But When George died isn’t about how exceptional he was.
It’s about how exceptional all cats are. Just like people.
Something’s lost when any creature dies, their physical selves disappearing. The loss echoes across all the universe.
It’s fleeting, and most will never notice. But something’s lost when death smothers the spark.
With George, I thought it was a bigger loss than most, but it’s about the love lost to all of us.
Stack Work Advances While Answers Do Not
On June 17 and 18, HPD told the first meeting of the Roosevelt Island Steam Plant Demolition Community Advisory Group that smokestack demolition had no projected start date. Residents and the CAG would receive at least five business days’ advance notice once a date was set. Scaffolding around the stacks could not proceed until soil removal and backfill were complete and the area stabilized.
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