the morning has arriven

arriven and passed me by like a train that's running mussolini-esquely on time. its morning and i'm sitting with coffee at least an hour past the time when i had expected to roll from bed. m and i are going to the aspca to get a kitten/ cat today. responsibilities, ah, yes. we've thought of names, if he/she is an all black cat, we'd like to name them poe, after edgar allan, and if she's a white kitten, then willard. but if they are somewhere in between then i guess that we have to find the name belonging to the personality. thoughts now of willard, my dads cat, who thought he was a dog, took walks with you, was as social as a dog and ate dog food every morninf with the rest of the dogs. and then i think once again of how funny death is a s a cyclical thing that walks hand in hand with life and of how there was so much death that preceded my father's own. his two long time neighbors, 1 year and six months beforehand, his dogs, the very loyal, zachary, hit by a car, dying in my fathers arms and then dillon, heart attack at my dads staircase a month or later... and then willard simply disappeared in the mists, hopefully to hunt mice forever in a happy hunting ground where i know that all the animals are with my dad, bringing back mice and laying at his feet.and now today, we are going for a cat, possibly to take on his progenitors name and then begin a cycle of life intertwined with all of the things that hide inside it.