Notice

Sometimes, we'd bring out the "Gerbil Ball" which was a semi-transparent purple orb with a hinged trap door just big enough to slip Furball through. Once inside, Furball would have the run of the house, exploring all corners and smells.

One day, my friend Ryan and I rode our bikes over to Chad's house to play some Major League Baseball on the Nintendo. We were greeted at the door by Chad's Mother. She told us that Furball had just "passed on" and that Chad was conducting a burial ceremony in the back yard.

Ryan and I quietly went through the living room, through the kitchen, and out on to the deck, where we could privately view the somber commemoration.

Once on the deck, we could see that the shallow, uncovered grave had already been dug, and Furball had been lowered to rest. We were somewhat surprised, however, to see that our dear friend Chad was marching around the yard, in his Boy Scout uniform, singing a patriotic tribute to Furball to the tune of God Bless America.

After what seemed like a few minutes, Chad finished singing, stopped marching, stood at attention, saluted with 3 fingers, and said with a trembling voice, "Goodbye Furbowski." Ryan and I immediately burst out laughing, which startled Chad--he didn't know we were there.

Looking back on that time, I realize now, it was a mean thing to laugh at my friend Chad. Chad, I'm sorry. And I never got a chance to say goodbye to Furbowski myself.

Goodbye Furbowski.