Marigold: What are you doing back there>
Phoebe: Making the internet.
In loving memory Gladys "Glad Bag" Simpson 2001-20015
I saved this from three years ago when Tudaze who was Mark Tatulli’s (Heart of the City) passed. I don’t think Mr. Seabolt would mind this sharing of caring.
Les Seabolt said, almost 3 years ago
In Ancient Egypt cats were given places of honor in their households. When a cat died, the family would shave their eyebrows and wear mourning clothes. Sometimes the cats remains would be mummified.The Egyptians revered a cat-headed Goddess called Bast, the center of worship being a city bearing the name Bubastis. She was the protector of the sun, goddess of motherhood and love, and took a special interest in the souls of departed felines.
Time has come, great mouser bold,The years have passed and you’ve grown old.The body that once served so well,Is a painful cage, a hollow shell.Your time upon this plane is through,For Mother Bast has called to you.
Go to sleep and dream a dream,Of sun drenched meadows by a stream of cream,With darting minnow and dragonflyYou’ll drink your fill while your feet stay dry.Hunt the grass where the big mice go,And birds take off just a hair too slow.Where all day long it’s jump and run,Then stretch and nap in the drowsy sun.Then stalk the shadows when fireflies glow,To the night clad fields where the catnip grows.
But spare a moment in your feline rest,To remember me, who loved you best.We shared so much throughout the years,Laughter, fireside warmth, and tears.I gave you food, a bed and milk,You gave me purrs as soft as silk.When life was tough, and friends were few,I knew that I could depend on you,To remind me never to give in,You’d bump your head against my chin.
I brought you toys, stuffed mice and strings,But still you would destroy MY things!Or claw the rug, the door, the chair,And blanket the house with cast-off hair,Until I’d scream, “WHO NEEDS A PET?”But minutes later we’d both forget.For who could be mad at shredded lace,When looking at your “I’m sorry” face.I’ll cry and clutch the gnawed on shoe,For Mother Bast has called to you.Go where you must and never fear,There will always be a soft spot here,In another time your soul may rise,I’ll know you when I see your eyes
So don’t look back, I’ll say goodbye,For everything that’s born must die.You’ll shed this cloak of age worn skin,And be a kitten once again,In a place where skies are always blue,For Mother Bast has called to you.