Mount Auburn Cemetery attracts many birdwatchers. You don't need binoculars to see this species:
There were six in that flock. These big, ornery birds seem so out of place in an urban environment — crossing lanes of traffic, sitting on someone's porch or next to a mailbox, parading around tombstones or hospital grounds. We keep our distance.
We don't come across this dog very often on our walks but we like to see him. I'm sure there's a story about him. There are a few other dog sculptures, but no cats as far as I know:
Probably all the cat as we can get here — the Union Monument, a sphinx commemorating Civil War heroes:
"Look, a rat!" I said. "It's a lamb," said my husband. "It's a rat to me. It's rat-sized. Look at its snout and its skinny feet." "Lamb!" "Rat!"
I like rats. This is a religious one, named Edwin. Something bad happened to his ears and his tail but he's made peace with it:
Speaking of rodents, the chipmunks were busy everywhere. Who paints their racing stripes?
Not a creature but an urn...
I can't decide if I'd like a ghost, a cat, or a distraught angel on my tombstone. Or do you have a better idea for yours? I think my epitaph should say, "She finally bought real estate and moved in."
It strikes me that it would be a lot nicer to be laid to rest under the sky and among trees than to be shut into a grim cement box in Bigelow Chapel, where chipmunks and turkeys can't roam. Not that I'd ever know the difference. . . or would I?