We all had a good cry, and went in to stroke and reassure Sandi as she lay there, her spirit departing. So beautiful, so relaxed; we laid on our hands and some of us departed with her at that moment. For the first time since she got so sick, her coat was now sleek and smooth, and she was not so tormented. Sweet relief, but so sad, I could not linger for the pain that had transferred. Such a shame and such a terrible affliction for such a vital entity as she was. Since it was already dark and there had been no time to properly prepare, the vet agreed to keep her body for us till the next day. I broke down as I asked for them to not freeze her, and pose her in a relaxed sleeping curl. Rigor mortise would prevent further positioning.

The dreaded next day arrived and I took off time from work, leaving early. I readied a spot in Sandi’s beloved outdoor canopy of trees behind the house. One I selected for its serenity, shade, comfort and nearness to the house. I imagined a great oak tree standing in that exact spot 100 years from now, from an acorn randomly falling, being nourished as a seedling by Sandi’s body. I selected it for its ability to withstand the ages undisturbed. There are no nearby Oaks. I dug it deep to ward off scavengers, and squared it off perfectly, a little larger than she might be if she were curled up and sleeping. I broke every clod to bits so it would fall gentle on her remains, and had that pile of soft Mother Earth as that cover standing at ready. On the way to the vet, my mind’s eye could see that somehow she had miraculously sprung back to life and in perfect health, and she would greet me just like always. I wanted my baby back like old times. Such was not the case.

When we returned from the clinic with her body, we drove slowly. I was in no hurry to get home and somehow not seeing too well. Though the sun was setting we took our time. At home we tearfully selected as many of her favorite toys as we could find, feathers and rings, and prepared soft towels to wrap her in. We cried into these towels before laying her in them and I had already wiped the sweat onto one from my face and chest (caused by the digging). At this point, we invited Dickens to come out with us and pay his respects. Dickens was the perfect gentleman, following us slowly, and reposing at the gravesite with us. We unwrapped Sandi and saw the beautifully relaxed curled sleeping position the vet had posed her in, and wrapped her in our own sweat and tears. Again we petted and stroked and talked to her, and thanked God we had been given this unique gift, if even for only such a short time. Dickens watched intently, but did not approach her. He was very respectful, and tried to comfort Maryann a little. As the moment came, (exactly sunset, as it turns out) I placed her body in the grave so that her head was facing the house and began to fill in the grave. A very sad moment and so final.

A very strange thing happened as I was pulling the soft powdered Earth into the hole. I do not understand how I could have missed it. Buried in the dirt was a perfect sphere. Solid white and about 3" in diameter. It was a baseball. How could it be? It wasn’t there when I dug the hole, and I had gone through the whole pile by hand breaking the clods. But there it was, not nicked or scratched, or marked in any way, It was perfect but just dirty, and only in places. I set it aside and continued covering. We Thanked God again, stood by for few moments and Maryann departed after saying "Amen" to my prayer for the living and I picked up the ball and wondered about it some more.

I am not a particularly "religious" man, but I do have my beliefs. They involve a Higher Power I know as God, and many wonders of his Power mere men can never guess. I do not try, I just accept it as fact. God did not choose to ease the burden of these last few days, and that is okay. I seldom Pray (aloud) and am not very good at it…too awesome for me. Somehow, I just needed to talk to God tonight. I withdrew and Dickens lingered on, slowly ambling around the site. I had in a final act planted her cat toy -- Feather-on-a-stick -- into the soil over Sandi as a temporary marker. I tied the feather to the top of the stick. Now Dickens was interested in the feather. I was afraid he would grab it and run like he always does, but instead, he head-butted it, and rubbed first one side, then the other of his face on it. He backed up a little, then took off like lightning for the house, not stopping till he landed on the porch. It’s suppertime. Life goes on. I personally don’t feel much like eating, so I wash off the ball and find it almost good as new. I write Sandi’s name on it and add the date. I will think about this night a long, long time. Maryann and I feed the cats, snuggle and kiss and turn out the lights. Though I had hoped to get answers in my dreams sleeplessness is my companion for the night. I try instead to revisit every warm memory of our time together.

Before going to work the following day, I went out to check the site, and to my relief, the grave and feather were undisturbed. To my further amazement there on the ground was yet another sphere. It caught my eye because it was perfect, and shiny in the dew. It was an Acorn, still a little green and with its cap still on. I picked it up, and studied it for flaws: none. Perfect, even perfectly round. Amazing," what’s this Sphere thing, Sandi?", I ask aloud. Thinking about it later I decide that a sphere is better than a circle (or ring) because it is an infinity of circles. If a circle is a sign of continuity or joining together, then what is a sphere? I chose to think it would be all of infinity, joined together. All things joined. A circle in three dimensions. describing a finite space. Solidity. The Acorn will be planted on the grave after a little brush clearing so it can have light and flourish. Sandi will have her oak tree and become one with it. It will be amazing like her. I’ll keep the baseball till I die.

Tom R Knowles, Jr.