Moby Dick is About a Whale. Darwin's Cat is About Cats -- Sometimes. Today It is about Lulu

A friend just lost her cat. It literally died fighting. Little girl was probably suffering from cancer but hated the vet -- generically, not specifically -- and fought so hard during an exam that she had a heart attack. She was an old cat and raged raged against the dying of the light, or in this case the cold hands of the vet. I admire it anyway.

Our friend buried her kitty out in the beautiful country. The consciousness of the dead does not dwell where they are buried, but the consciousness of the living does, which argues for a green plot or a seabourne toss of the dust. If you follow the transit of me and my wife across these great United States, you will find the graves of cats.

As I described the situation to our friend:

I’m glad you have a beautiful place for your kitty. Ours are seeded all over the yard – Lawrence in the flower bed, Marguerite next to the neighbor’s garage, Boris out back next to the hedge and Popcorn under the wall with birdhouses on it. At some point the cat gods will give you another cat. That’s what they do, which is why our devotion is rewarded.

She said our kitties had nice names. They came with them. We just had to watch carefully until we knew. Her kitty's name was Lulu. Isn't that a good name?

P.S. Here's a Darwin's Cat 'Greatest Hit.'