Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • Even though Roscoe passed in June he visits me in dreams. I buried him outside my window in the garden where I am reminded of my mortality, and that my friend is now bones and fur 3 feet down. I now have a hummingbird feeder.

    Last night the old guy came and let me pet him for a good long time. His fur, thick, the way I remember it. He liked it as much as I did. Even though other people were around I knew I was the only one who could see and feel him.

    He lives between worlds and sometimes visits me through other cats I find on the street. The love continues, silently.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.