Back at the house, I grabbed a shovel from the garage, and Carey looked on as I dug a hole next to a rosebush high enough for Mom to see from her window. Then I laid Panda to rest. “Griffin,” Carey said, “she’s still in the garbage bag. You can’t put her in there like that.” “I know, but I can’t bring myself to look at her.” “I got it,” said my future wife as she gently untied the knot to the bag. Holding a frozen dead cat in her arms, she placed Panda back in the hole. “Welcome to the Dunne family,” I said. Thank God she laughed.
