By Eugie Foster
Read by Cat Rambo
I saw my dead ferret, Caesar, last night in my living room. I’d dozed off
watching re-runs on TV and woke up to the tickle-prick of whiskers against
my hand. When I looked down and saw him, I picked him up and settled him
under my chin. We’d always slept like that on the couch, him nestled
against me, a warm weight rising and falling as I breathed.
I closed my eyes and remembered; Caesar was dead. I sat up, bang, and he
I told Richard about it the next morning at work.
“I think my ferret’s haunting me,” I said, hoping to start things on a light
note after our rocky parting the previous evening.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Kathy,” he snapped back.
It was the first time he’d ever been sharp with me. An awkward silence
sprang up and clocked in for the long haul.
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About the Author
In her own words:
I grew up in the Midwest, although I call home a mildly haunted, fey-infested house in metro Atlanta that I share with my husband, Matthew. After receiving my Master of Arts degree in Developmental Psychology, I retired from academia to pen flights of fancy. I also edit legislation for the Georgia General Assembly, which from time to time I suspect is another venture into flights of fancy. (more…)