Last year, about this time, a somewhat elderly woman placed an ad with my employer, memorializing her recently deceased cat. She spent a goodly chunk of money on this ad, as it was a quarter-page full color ad, running in Sunday's paper. Okay, I think, a bit eccentric, but maybe she's not close to family members and really loved the cat.
The color ad on Sunday wasn't enough, though, you see. She ran similar-sized ads, in black-and-white, for the next five days. All with a picture of Patches [The Wonder-Kitty!, as we began to call her] lounging on a chair. The damn cat was 20 years old to the day when it finally shuffled off this mortal coil and went on to Kitty-Heaven-where-the-milk-flows-like-water-and-the-mice-are-slow.
The plot thickened when, upon a brief chat with my counterparts down in the obituaries section, I learned that the woman, who we'll call Margie, had tried to run what became the ads in the Obituaries section. Our publisher, blessedly, said no, that's for people. A limited breakdown ensued, but Margie recovered, having faced this sort of inhuman (ha-HA!) prejudice before. Later, we learned that she had tried to get one of our city's leading funeral homes to conduct a graveside service for the cat, but they declined. So, Margie was forced to plant ol' Patches in her yard, under the marble tombstone she ordered from Lexington Monument Company.
Flash-forward to January, 2007. There's another ad marking three months, a whole quarter-year, since Patches died. Where was this (and subsequent Dead Cat Ads) placed? The Celebrations page - you know, where normal people place ads about engagements, marriages, anniversaries. You know, happy things, things with perspective about them.
April, 2007: A half-year since Patches died. The poetry that has accompanied these ads is getting worse. It is, dare I say, bad-doggerel-no-biscuit. A 17-year-old emo-cutter-kid's worst LJ lamenting is probably better than this. No less laughable, at least.
July, 2007: No 9-month memorial ad, since, y'know, you wouldn't want to take things too far.
Yesterday: Another Dead Cat Ad. This time, more wailing, but now Margie has a new kitty, but it's just not like having Patches.
Back-of-the-envelope calculations have indicated that what this bat spent on ads and a monument for Patches would have kept one of our local humane societies in animal food for better than two months, or provided adoption for about 65 shelter cats.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Dare I ask...
no subject
Last year, about this time, a somewhat elderly woman placed an ad with my employer, memorializing her recently deceased cat. She spent a goodly chunk of money on this ad, as it was a quarter-page full color ad, running in Sunday's paper. Okay, I think, a bit eccentric, but maybe she's not close to family members and really loved the cat.
The color ad on Sunday wasn't enough, though, you see. She ran similar-sized ads, in black-and-white, for the next five days. All with a picture of Patches [The Wonder-Kitty!, as we began to call her] lounging on a chair. The damn cat was 20 years old to the day when it finally shuffled off this mortal coil and went on to Kitty-Heaven-where-the-milk-flows-like-water-and-the-mice-are-slow.
The plot thickened when, upon a brief chat with my counterparts down in the obituaries section, I learned that the woman, who we'll call Margie, had tried to run what became the ads in the Obituaries section. Our publisher, blessedly, said no, that's for people. A limited breakdown ensued, but Margie recovered, having faced this sort of inhuman (ha-HA!) prejudice before. Later, we learned that she had tried to get one of our city's leading funeral homes to conduct a graveside service for the cat, but they declined. So, Margie was forced to plant ol' Patches in her yard, under the marble tombstone she ordered from Lexington Monument Company.
Flash-forward to January, 2007. There's another ad marking three months, a whole quarter-year, since Patches died. Where was this (and subsequent Dead Cat Ads) placed? The Celebrations page - you know, where normal people place ads about engagements, marriages, anniversaries. You know, happy things, things with perspective about them.
April, 2007: A half-year since Patches died. The poetry that has accompanied these ads is getting worse. It is, dare I say, bad-doggerel-no-biscuit. A 17-year-old emo-cutter-kid's worst LJ lamenting is probably better than this. No less laughable, at least.
July, 2007: No 9-month memorial ad, since, y'know, you wouldn't want to take things too far.
Yesterday: Another Dead Cat Ad. This time, more wailing, but now Margie has a new kitty, but it's just not like having Patches.
Back-of-the-envelope calculations have indicated that what this bat spent on ads and a monument for Patches would have kept one of our local humane societies in animal food for better than two months, or provided adoption for about 65 shelter cats.