I've had two cats (Jade and Cheshire Cat) cremated in the past and both were returned to me in plastic bags stuck inside what appeared to be cheap candle tins from the 99 cent store.
I have a confession - when my cat Jade died 12 years ago (an icky tale - his vet asked me to give him a Valium before I moved from one city to another because Jade had a little heart murmur and the vet didn't want him to be stressed out. I gave it to him. It killed him. End of story.) I was (still am) so traumatized by his death that when his ashes came back I opened the little bag of what appeared to be crushed sea shells and I stuck my fingers into it.
Does this make me a total freak; or is someone else going to confess to the same sort of mourning behavior; because I'd rather not believe I'm the only one with this particular brand of crazy.
But with Vito, nope, no access to ashes, no sticking my fingers into the bag. There are screws on the bottom of the box, so I could get to the ashes if I wanted to, say, sprinkle them somewhere or bury them, or star in my very own re-enactment of that scene from Meet The Fockers.
So, I get home with this Box O' Vito and try to decide where to put him. I let Grover and Piggy sniff the box but they were way too interested in it, which was sweet but inviting trouble, so I knew I had to put the box somewhere they never go, or it was going to get broken. And then I knew where to put it...way up on top of the armoire where Vito liked to ensure I could not turn on the ceiling fan.
(Yet again another crappy cell phone pic...I wish I'd taken more 'real' photos of Vito, but I had no idea I'd have so little time with him.)
When I got into bed last night (I put the plaster paw prints on the table near my bed), I kept thinking of those ashes up there on the armoire. I really, really, really wanted to go get them and take them to bed with me. I kept thinking about it and thinking about it, and then thinking some more about how this might look should I die in the night and was found cradling a box of ashes in my bed. But I still kept thinking about it - hell, my real friends would love me anyway if I were found that way, right?
Then, I realized if I were to do such a thing as get those ashes and cuddle them all night, it would be a slippery slope, and the next thing I might end up doing was putting on my wedding dress and sitting on the couch crying and eating a pint of Ben & Jerry's Pisctachio Pistachio ice cream while watching the Say Yes To The Dress marathon. And that would be really sad.
So I left his ashes where they were. For now...