dr. moon, III

dr. moon handles the hysterical woman in the lobby and i hold on to gingers limp body. i am remembering my dead cat that we found in the garage, stiff. i don't want ginger to get stiff. dr. moon comes back in, looking satisfied, but sad.

"what are you going to do?"

"i leave her here. tomorrow i will take her to the place that makes her ashes."

"i always liked to bury my pets."

"a body is a body. ginger rots in the ground or is turned to ashes. you think it matters." while he says this he is putting ginger in a shoe box he rumaged from the closet. he curls up her body, makes it look like she is napping, then places her with care in the box.

"when i was little we had a cat, kinks, he was my brother's, and he got sick and he ran away to die. when my brother asked what happened to kinks my mom said he just ran away. she didn't tell him that kinks wanted to be alone, so he could die."

"humans like to die with people all around them. tubes and hands being held, and tear. wah, wah. animals like to die alone."

"but i always thought of kinks' body, rotting away in some field or under a stranger's house."

"it probably was. so what. he die alone at least. animals know the impermanence of body."

dr. moon places the box in the back, near the back door.

"time to go. could not save the kittens life."

i tell him i am going to go to the bathroom and that i will lock up. he shuffles out into the night, lab coat still on, no regular coat, no car keys, like he will walk outside and apparate to where ever it is he lives.

i go to the bathroom and leave through the back door. i grab the white box with ginger in it. i carry it under my arm, by the gas station, the same dark skinned man stares out at the pools of light, past the post office, back into my apartment.