Cat Tales from the Crypt

I read once in a book about the Oregon Trail that when people died they wrapped them in quilts and then sewed up the sides and buried them. I liked this idea because to me coffins are creepy.
So when a cat dies at my house, the ritual is to wrap him/her in fabric like a mummy, sew up the sides, and then get some guy I know with a shovel (usually Shane or Seth) to come over and dig a hole in the back corner of my lot.
The first cat to die was Francis. I wrapped him in muslin and tied him up with bows. Seth dug a hole and buried him so fast that Anne and I barely had time to cry; turns out Seth doesn't like crying and he wanted to get it over with as fast as possible.
The next cat to bite the dust was Coconut. I wrapped him in a white, terry cloth towel and actually did sew up the sides. Shane had the honors of burying this one. At the grave site I was a little confused (grief stricken) as to where Shane should start digging. I wanted Coconut next to Francis since they were buddies, so I pointed out a spot and Shane started plowing up the dirt. He had a strange look on his face as he dug and asked me if I was sure this was the right spot. As he was telling me that way the dirt moved and a snapping sound being made by the shovel that maybe…..oh my gosh, he was digging up Francis! I saw what looked like a femur with a ring of black fur around it. All the muslin and most of Francis had decomposed. Oddly enough the experience was more liberating than traumatizing. It made me happy to see that he was almost gone and not trapped in some claustrophobic subterranean state.
Later, Rusty died, but ironically I was in the hospital on life support when it happened. My brother David, Seth and Anne buried him being careful not to dig up dead thing 1 and dead thing 2. Carlene had put Rusty in a plastic garbage bag but Anne, knowing how I think in these regards, insisted that the cat be removed from the bag and buried au natural. She was right and I am thankful for her persistence.
O.K. here’s the deep part: I know when you’re dead your dead. We’ve all seen enough dead animals or people to know that whatever it is that makes them alive and real and wonderful is no longer present. The spirit is gone and all that remains is the flesh. So actually all we end up burying is the part of us that demands its own way and that’s fine with me.

"For the flesh lusts against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; and these are contrary to one another, that you may not do the things that you desire.....but the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faith, gentleness, and self-control. Against such things there is no law." (Galatians 5:17-23ish)

It's interesting to note that later, I found out that one of the ways Dr. Geneser used to determine if I could be taken off life support was by looking into my eyes. On that day he could see I was still alive and real and wonderful. So such is life.

For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. But if I am to live on in the flesh, this will mean fruitful labor for me; and I do not know which to choose. But I am hard-pressed from both directions, having the desire to depart and be with Christ, for that is very much better. (Phil. 1:21-23)