Sometimes you’re forced to let go, whether you want to or not…
Our beloved seventeen year-old cat Silly joined Brian during the wee hours of Monday morning. Although we knew his time was near (due to recently diagnosed bone cancer), we are devastated just the same…
Yesterday someone advised me that my grief was the exact reason why I shouldn’t get attached to animals; they always die.
I didn’t trust myself to respond.
Several others mentioned they knew where we could immediately get another cat…
To which I replied, “No thanks, we won’t be doing that anytime soon, if ever.”
He was part of our family…no other feline could take his place.
Silly got up early each morning and met John in the kitchen….
He knew the exact time the kids were due home from school and would wait to greet them at the top of the stairs…
When he wanted attention, he walked over and sat in the middle of whatever we were doing: reading the paper, doing homework, typing an email, you name it. It didn’t matter to him; he was equal opportunity in that regard…
Silly made certain to sleep on top of pants, coats and sweatshirts thrown carelessly over a chair or dresser, coating them with a fine layer of fur…
He was also known to curl up inside of John’s open briefcase and the seat of his office chair…
He preferred to obtain fresh water from the toilet bowl or a drippy bathtub faucet, frequently showing disdain for the official water bowl by flipping it upside down, mainly because he could…
He also loved to drink out of the Christmas tree stand after he was done swatting ornaments off low branches and pouncing on packages, punching holes in the wrapping paper and pulling off bows…
Silly shamelessly begged for tuna when he saw a can opener in our hands; he also pled his case at the slightest whiff of chicken or turkey cooking. He stole bacon, steak and cheese, and wasn’t above planting his face in a bowl of cereal or ice cream left unattended…
He tried to sneak into the garage and out the back door with limited success but stubborn determination.
He never got used to the loud end-of-cycle buzzer on our dryer…
And he never stopped checking to see if B was back in his room…
He absolutely knew something changed in us on that awful day, so he changed too… He provided comfort to each of us in turn the only way he knew, by curling up in our lap and purring his own song of solace, meant to soothe our stricken souls…
I keep looking for him and listening for his bell…
How we miss that big furry ball with a heart of gold…
Wishing you many blessings and hope…tg
Tammy will update her blog twice weekly…
