The Invasion Year

“Nathan Bedford,” my “little general,” and his “bubba” Mosby’s groomer, fellow prankster, and “hot water bottle” on cool nights. Forrest was white-furred, with a grey tail, ears and nose, and the brightest, widest jade green eyes. He was an ambusher, a talker who’d hold long conversations with me, or any message left on the phone, and could purr louder than any other cat I can remember. He was only 9? when he left this life on July 2nd, 2010, and Mosby and I miss him very much, and wish he could have stayed with us many years more-if only to help Mosby open every under-counter cabinet door in the house, or lay side by side to “paddle” all the sliding closet doors open so they could get inside and prowl.

Forrest, I give you the Sunday wardroom toast,

“Absent Friends.”

Pateant montes silvacque lacusque

cunctaque claustra maris; spes et metus omnibus esto

arbiter. Ipse locos terrenaque summa movendo

experiar, quaenum populis longissima cunctis

regna valim linquamque datas ubi certus habenas.

Let mountains, forests, lakes

and all the barriers of ocean open out before them;

hope and fear shall decide the day for all alike.

I myself by shifting the seat of empire upon earth

shall make trial which kingdom I shall elect to let

rule longest over all peoples, and in whose hands I

can without fear leave the reins of power once bestowed.