Saturday, August 13, 2011

If Love Could Have Saved You, You Would Have Lived Forever

Dear Cutie Bear Cat,

Did you know Jeremy named you? I would have chosen something less child-like for you...something maybe like Felix or Haskell maybe. But it became so fitting for you...and I ended up calling you cootie or coots anyway. Thank you for for forgiving the silliness of it.
I've been looking at urns and stones with paw prints and corny sayings and markers and necklaces with little vials so that I can wear you on my person if I need to...I don't know how to let go. There is such an empty space here, everywhere you were, sweet little fur baby friend.
I knew from the beginning you were dear nighttime constant. It was you and it was me in the stillness at 2 a.m. as I created away in our shared circle of light. You in my lap or near my feet. The stillness and darkness of night was warmed by the soft wonder of your eyes. You looked to me for love, which I so freely gave to you with a wide open heart. Isn't that how we are supposed to love? Like you did?
I feel foolish for grieving you so. Are "grownups" supposed to grieve like this? Surely you knew how I loved you...and life around me goes spinning on as always and my heart is breaking for the missing of you. The deep and throbbing missing that won't lighten with the passing of days or even shopping for old jewelry to assemble.
I couldn't save you. I keep asking myself if there was more I could have done...did I do the right thing by calling our sweet small town vet for a home visit that would end your life. I can't handle the finality of it. You fought until the end, dear soul.
Thank you for gathering your last tiny bit of strength to visit me one last night as I settled in to sleep. I knew it would be the last time...dear furry companion, as I warmed you with the quilt that she made for me months ago to comfort me when I thought my body had given out for good. You stayed beside me night and day while I was sick and rising was out of the question. Did I thank you for that?

I've cried in the bathroom so no one would hear. I've cried in the bedroom so the children won't see... I've cried at 3 a.m. under the moon on the back yard bench. And the tears arrive again in the corners of my eyes as I write this. When will the ache of your absence leave me? There is such a huge hole in the shape of you here.
Please know that I loved you and that you were so extraordinary in so many ways. You were more than just a pet. There was more to you...i knew that. You had such a spirit, such wisdom, and you loved loved me.....irreplaceable, gentle, you. I miss you terribly.
Your ashes arrive tomorrow. And how in the world shall I proceed?

Your forever, forever friend,



  1. Dearest Jennifer, I am crying for you and with you as I type these words. I'm crying for the loss of my furry, four-footed "children" in the past. I'm crying for the most recent losses of our cat Oreo (named by my daughter when she was young)and for Maggie, who was the 50 lb. lap dog I always wanted. What blessings these creatures are who love us unconditionally! I encourage you to not hide your tears. It is good for your human children to see how much that sweet little kitty meant to you.It is okay to grieve. Wrapping you in a big bear hug, Karen

  2. it is so hard to lose our pets, who are really just like members of our family, right? we rescued a kitten from a shelter whom we named antonio because he was such a lover. he was only with us for three weeks before he passed. turns out he was very sick. he was the sweetest kitten and boy did i cry, so i can only imagine how you feel. my heart goes out to you.

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  4. Dear Jennifer - My eyes are watery as I type this to you, because anyone who has lived through losing a pet, can relate. I so feel for you. I had my baby, Twigs for 13 yrs and she went through "everything" with me (Divorce, Moving a few times, new relationship etc ...) ... I will send strong and positive thoughts your way for brighter days ahead!

  5. Lois Johnson14 August, 2011

    Oh, Jennifer--I am a mess just reading this. I am so very sorry. I lost my little Muffin almost 3 years ago and cried for her and for your little Cutie. It doesn't go away. I have Muffin's ashes. That does help. That way I can still talk to her and tell her every day how much I loved her and how much I know she loved me.

  6. Oh, sniff. :( I'm sorry for the loss of your dear little friend.

  7. ohhhhh, so sorry about the loss of your furry family member.
    :( it is so very difficult to experience (and for me to put things into words because i've been there before and it's lousy-hard) so let me send you some words of henry van dyke. they always comfort me and i hope they do the same for you and your family. (it was written with feminine pro/nouns, but could obviously be used in the masculine, too).

    "i am standing upon the seashore. a ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. she is an object of beauty and strength. i stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

    then someone at my side says: "there, she is gone!"

    "gone where?"

    gone from my sight. that is all. she is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port. her diminished size is in me, not in her.

    and just at the moment when someone at my side says "there, she is gone!", there are other eyes watching her coming and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: "here she comes!"

    wishing you and your family peace.


  8. So glad I found your blog...lump in throat, tears, going to go and hug my Alfie. The lost of our pets is heartbreaking.


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