Rosendale Ramblings By Sari Botton

Rosendale – in case you haven’t heard, or seen the bumper stickers – rocks. It’s a funky little river town with very cool, interesting people, and we are getting to know more of them all the time.

Sometimes, though, you get to know the neighbors in unusual ways. Like, their cat dies on your lawn.

Brian and I were at the hardware store yesterday catching the bus to the city. (Yes, the hardware store doubles as a bus depot.) There, in the window, was a photograph of the kitty we found dead last week, with a note asking for any information about this missing pet. Turns out our theory that the cat might have been old and reached it’s time was off the mark; the cat, although very large, was just a year old.

Brian immediately called the number on the note and left a message. A woman called back last night, and said it was her roommate’s girlfriend’s cat – and that she was going to be upset.

There was an instant familiarity in talking with her, which was a bit strange. Even though we live just a few houses away, we’ve never met before. It was as if a certain instant bond was forged by the passing of their pet at our house.