Good Bye George

Living in the land of the dead

I met george the widower a few months ago, he had died, knockeddby a tram, his wife still lived across the street. It was difficult for him, the way it had happened - he knew it was an accident but couldn't quite for give himself. He saw his wife getting on with life. It was bad the way God or whoever, made him stay on after death, seeing her daily as a ghost.
The thing was that it was not all mangled body etc, it was his soul, in a corporeal form as it was before he had died, so to george it was even harder to accept his predicament -what is wrong with me, he often asked.
You're dead George I answered.
The thing is I was never sure whether I was alive or dead. I was definitely his familiar that meant I had to hang around him, we were just waiting for that cut off time, when I would have to go and find another soul to latch onto and he, finally might get peace ever after, but it seemed a long time coming.
Is this purgatory? He would ask
I mean I am just a cat, I do not have a deep metaphysical philosophy to back me up. Granted I've lived about 8 lives, and have only one more, so I should know more than the average Jo, or say a badger - but that doesn't mean I have knowledge of the inner workings of God's mind. You just have to be patient George.
That was it, that was all the comfort I could give.
Poor George
So mostly I spent my time walking along fences and city walls.