Theme
11:20am October 4, 2014

The pets who leave us behind.

My father had a few pets that meant everything to him.

There was Tag, half collie and half coyote.

Corky, a Siamese cat who learned to spell (p-u-t t-h-e c-a-t o-u-t) and rode dogs out of the yard.

Bummer, a sheep rejected by his mother.

And all of them slept in a pile on the farm.

There’s more recent pets too.

Brightspot, the cat who always snuggled with him, and who dragged herself all the way home – the only cat who ever did this – after getting dragged by a car, her hind end rotting off, and she purred as he picked her up to take her to the vet for the inevitable.  

Noki, my dog I raised from a puppy who became my parents’ dog after I moved out.  She turned into my dad’s running buddy.  And always iinjured herself going after squirrels.  She died of a sudden, fast-acting cancer.  My parents wanted to put her to sleep right away, but I convinced them to wait until she gave some sign.  So we got her on pain meds.  And we gave her the best send-off we could – steak dinners, car rides, her favorite music – until she clearly couldn’t stand it anymore and then (and only then) we called the vet.

Ron… if there’s any kind of afterlife at all, they’re all going to be waiting for you.  They’ll purr, they’ll wag their tails, they’ll rub their faces on you, they’ll jump in your lap, they’ll walk beside you, they’ll dance around you in circles, they’ll lick your face, they’ll head-butt your chin, they’ll be all over you.  So remember that.  You may get to meet every pet you’ve ever lost, all over again.

Or as my friend (who seems to be losing her bird right now :-( ) put it:

My plans are to go into eternity myself flanked by two pets, one the best anyone can have ever hoped for, another the worst anyone could have loved.

(Referring to her two birds over the years.)