Wednesday, July 3, 2013

Good-byes are hard...

I still watch for him to run to the door to meet me when I come in.

I miss him stretched across my legs in the bed, nailing me down, and grumping if I move One Bit.

I am lonely for the little guy who sat on the edge of the tub for 20 years, dipping his tail and drinking (bleh) bath water.

I can't eat without looking down to give him one little taste of whatever I have.

I am lonesome beyond all words for my little boy; Wookie died on Friday after a courageous battle with bone cancer. The last few weeks, I hand fed him every bite he ate. The last two days, he couldn't drink, so I held him like a baby and fed him from a dropper. He was in no pain; he wanted to be near me where ever I was -- to the point of sitting in the windows and watching me weed the flowerbeds. He would call until I came back in and held him for a bit. Then, he was satisfied. His final day, he stayed out on the porch, enjoying the outside smells, sights, and sounds. I held him as he died.

The Mister hand dug (no backhoe for this one, he said) the grave over near Kashi, his pal who died several years ago. I placed my little guy, wrapped in the blanket I knit for him and with his cursed brush (how he hated it!) in a hardy storage box covered with roses. We rolled a ginormous quartz stone over his grave, reminding me a bit of Emerson's stone. Many years from now, archeologists will know he was deeply loved.

For 20 years he has been with me and I am so sad and miss him so much. I catch myself looking at the place where his litter box has been for all this time -- checking the place where his food bowl has been most of his life. I am reminded of a quote from Aunt Jane of Kentucky, "Look at this quilt. How can it still be here, but the hand that made it not?" I know he was "just a cat", but to me, he was so much more. He was the tangible connection to the past. He was someone I could love without reservation, without guard. While he would feign his annoyance with the whole petting and kissing thing, he loved it and I know it.

A friend said to me that it was unkind that God allowed our pets to pass before us. It is true; it is unkind. But I keep hoping that when I get to the other side, God lets me have the animals I have buried. If not, would it be heaven? We were created to care for these creatures of God; surely He will allow us to continue. I hope so.

Good night, my little man.


  1. They are not just pets, they are family. They comfort us and touch our hearts in a unique way. So sorry for your loss.

  2. I am so sorry, I remember the horrible grief I felt after both Storm and then Sasha died. Both of them are buried under the dogwood tree, no flowers but the gorgeous blooms each spring are in their honor.

    They were just as much family to us as any human could be, especially after having them 16 and 18 years (Sasha surviving two years longer than her sister).

    I told everyone I didn't want another cat and had to be talked into even meeting Victoria. But once I saw that face come out of the kitty carrier, it was love at first sight. She has now made her own place in our heart. :)

    I know exactly what you mean about missing little boys. There are times I have to stop and remember that Christopher is all grow up, a college grad, and married. When did this happen?


  3. I'm so sorry Matty to hear about your dear Wookie. How wonderful that he was able to pass away at home, in your arms. You gave him such a happy life, all that a cat could ever hope for. The love you have for him is a beautiful thing and even though your heart is grieving now, you are a better more enriched person for having loved him. He was a gift that you will always cherish. With Love, Delisa

  4. Oh my dear Matty,

    I am so sorry to hear your news. And I'm very sorry that I wasn't here right away to catch your sad news.

    I know exactly how you feel... you wrote out so many of the same feelings about your dear Wookie as we felt when we had to say goodbye to Missy (and our other furry loved ones).

    I do believe that He will surprise us with the joy of our pets being there beyond the veil when we arrive.

    I base that on Col. 1:20...And God purposed that through Him ALL things should be completely reconciled back to Himself, whether on earth or in heaven, as through Him (Jesus).

    If all means all, then that surely includes his creatures great and small, including one Mr. Wookie.

    (I agree, heaven just wouldn't be the same without them.)


  5. Dear Matty,

    My sympathies on losing your Wookie. Pets curl their way right around our hearts, and even the smallest of them takes a little piece of us with them when they go.

    I pray that you are finding peace by now, and that maybe someone new and furry will find you and fill that hole in your heart.




Thanks for dropping in on the farm today! I enjoy your comments!