We’ve finally done it: buried the ashes of our boy in the garden.

After a short deliberation we somewhat changed our minds towards putting him for his final rest at the spot where his favourite chair is: we are constantly walking around there, and it felt a bit wrong.

This place next to the fence was his second favourite, an outpost from which he was in total control of the garden (and the possible invaders, like Mia, the pussycat of our French neighbours): looking from the kitchen window, you could see him there, sleeping in the sun and enjoying himself.

The little stone frog is as old as the garden itself and became a perfect gravestone: he loved to be around it.

Now he’s got eternal peace to be with us forever.