So Long Roy

Last Saturday and Sunday was one of those perfect Fall weekends of warm temps, and pristine air, brisk in the morning making a person wand to be outside doing something productive. In my case I had opened the garage door and drug out my new lathe, trying to get used to the new device. I was working hard not be to be disappointed with my purchase but was loosing the battle as I realized the wood adjustment process or any adjustment process on this lathe required a 9/16 box end wrench and physically turning the bolts to adjust things like, tail stock, movement of the tool rest and the tail stock spindle which I believe would take a significant amount of time for able handed lathers let alone for a partial quad, as myself, which literally took me hours to turn three pieces of wood. But, I did not get too exasperated when I would find I had too long a piece of wood for the stocks or would drop my new box-end, or inadvertently disconnect the power to the lathe. Some time during the six hours I worked in the garage I ventured over to my neighbor’s house partially to seek his advice and partially to vent out my frustrations on purchasing such a poorly outfitted lathe to meet my disability needs.

The sun shinning down on us was almost hot as we walked back to the lathe sitting in front my garage. Albert, my neighbor, dutifully looked at my lathe and I could sympathize with me and my plight, still wondering why I every ever gave my first lathe away, but clearly interested making the lathe workable for me. At some point in time Albert thought maybe some maybe some WD 40 type on the tool rest slider mounts might make a difference in the usability of the lathe, it did but minor. It was then Albert confided in me that his cat Roy had died and I was chagrined I did not know, if fact, old Roy had died on September 21^st almost a month and I had not noticed. Roy and Albert were always together—Roy followed Albert round the yard like a dog follows her master. These two did have a communication with other and it was good. But now Roy was dead and gone. Albert was quiet, more quiet then usual an I broached the question was he OK. Albert shook himself free of his sadness and indicated that he was OK, that they hd gotten over their sadness and moved on. Then Albert asked if wanted to see Roy’s grave—how could I refuse—she was buried over here at the side of the house. I was shocked when I did get over to the side of the house a found a whole pet cemetery. Cats and dogs who ha called Albert’s place home. I cannot believe I have been Albert’s neighbor for going on 15 years and I had just now come on this shrine not ten feet from our property line. I liked Roy, and I usually don’t like cats—Roy kept to his side of the fence only coming into our yard when Albert ventured into our yard.—I miss Roy because I know Albert missed Roy a lot and I think Albert was hoping he, Albert, would avoid this pain by “going” first will it did not happen. Alone again , naturally .