Putting the FUN in funeral...

First, for the sensitive soul among my reader, let's just say that my littermates and I used to dream that we lived in the warm emotional peace of 426 North Bristol Avenue.

(Pre death, my littermate said to the doctor, "Isn't there something you can do to... send her off?")

So anyway, the funeral came on and there were many laughs. To start with, the obituary. The dam had a sister, call her M, and a Brother, call him E. My littermate wrote the obituary. When we got to the cathedral M went up to Littermate.

M- "You left my name out of the obituary."

LM- "Sorry, I didn't know sisters and brothers had to be mentioned."

"You left my name out."

"As I said, never did this before."

"I thought you did it on purpose."

"No, just didn't know."

"You left E's name out too."

"AS I said, I don't write many obituaries. I'll do better next time."

Staghounds- "The torch has been passed."

So, into the cathedral. The ashes, in their 9x9 inch cardboard box, were on a stool up by the altar, covered with a white cloth. The service wends its way to the "homily", the saying of nice things about the star of the show.

The dam was very, um, unreconstructed in her racial attitudes. She didn't dislike black folks, but she thought of them as domestic animals. Teaching them to read or allowing them to vote were just bad ideas.

So the priestess who was preaching the homily, after an advert for the Wednesday healing service ( not so effective, in this case) said,

"I am reminded of a poem by May-a Angelo (Yes, pronounced that way).

After I mentally corrected the pronunciation, I looked at my littermates. All three of us were chewing our tongues and checking the ash box- I SWEAR I heard it rattle a bit.

Then I looked back at the crowd. One could tell which of them knew the old bat AND knew who Maya Angelou is, because those people were also chewing THEIR tongues and looking for the ash box to explode.

It was PERFECT. The departed hated the very IDEA of Maya Angelou. I can't imagine anything that would have angered her more than to have old May-a quoted at her funeral.

So after it was over, out we went. I was carrying the ashes, and walked up to the car.

Pop the trunk, threw in the box. THUNK.

Closed the lid, WHUMP.

Staghounds- "THAT was satisfying. Let's hear that again."

Pop. THUNK. WHUMP.

SH- "Wish we could have done that ten years ago."

LM- "It wouldn't have been nearly as satisfying, what with the flailing arms and the screaming."

As I said, putting the fun in funeral.

Tomorrow, post funeral reception giggles.