Mister Juicy's Obituary has been published in the Uckfield Examiner, and Wilson is very pleased with it.
Well, pleased in the sense that there are no embarrassing spelling mistakes, sad in the sense that it is necessary, obviously.
He's also had some Memorial Cards printed, which he says will one day become Collectors' Items.
The interment will take place tomorrow, in a shady spot in the back garden...
Mr Juicy's Mortal Remains have been brought home from the hospital, and Wilson and The Bees have 'Laid Him Out' in preparation for his funeral in a couple of days time.
Until the funeral, Mr J is 'Lying In Repose' in the dining room.
Given the circumstances of Mr J's demise, I personally think a 'Closed Casket' would have been preferable, but Wilson is adamant. (And despite what people who know me may think, I do sometimes know when to keep my opinion to myself.)
Anyway, Wilson has drawn the curtains, covered all the mirrors with black crepe, stopped the clocks (even his famous Mk2 WASTE clock), hung a black wreath on the front door and strewn straw in the road outside the house.
Right now he's on the phone to the Uckfield Examiner organising an Obituary Notice to appear in tomorrow's edition.
Last night Mr Juicy was Pronounced an ex-orange and is now, according to Wilson, living in Pasta Heaven with the Flying Spaghetti Monster, eating all the vegetarian meatballs with pasta he can manage. Possibly Torchiette, or even Radiatori, which W thinks might have been his favourites.
W told me, 'Anyone who says, "cheer up – it was just an orange!" has obviously never had an orange...' and I can see his point of view. Sort of.
He doesn't want to talk at the moment, though – he is content to sit quietly, surrounded by his closest family... and in any case, no-one knows what to say.
I'm very glad that Byron is here, to support Wilson and distract him from his loss.
To Wilson, Mr J wasn't just an orange, he was his friend, and his partner in their Ventriloquism act. A lot of W's hopes for riches and fame were tied up with his 'Talking Orange'
The ICU nurse has told Wilson that Mr Juicy's temperature is 'Ambient'.
W doesn't know whether that's good or bad, and he doesn't like to ask as she's very busy setting up an IV Drip – I'm not certain, but I think it contains orange juice.
Once the nurse had left, a melancholy mood descended as we all sat at the bedside watching Mr J moulder.
Wilson reached out and nudged him gently with his paw; Mr J rolled over and W said, 'Look! He moved!' but now the fading fruit is just lying motionless on his side.
After a few minutes, one of Mr J's Googly Eyes slid down his face and came to rest on the sheet...
We all trooped into the A&E Waiting Area, where we tried to pass the time by reading posters about Not Using Mobile Phones and Quitting Smoking, and leaflets about Malaria and 'Flu Shots, while we waited for Mr Juicy to be seen.
Soon a door opened and a nurse called, rather uncertainly, 'Mister... ummm, Juicy?'.
Wilson immediately raised his paw, said, 'Yes! Yes! That's us!' and wheeled Mr J's wheelchair through the doorway into the Examination Room.
After what seemed like a very long time, Wilson emerged, alone, and announced, 'Mr J has been admitted. He's in the ICU. We can visit him in a little while.'
Byron put an arm round Wilson's shoulder and tried to comfort him, saying quietly, 'He's in the best place – I bet the doctors here know everything about fixing oranges.'
