In my several decades on this planet, I’ve lost a number of beloved people and pets. For some reason, Buddy’s death has been the hardest I can recall. Last Friday, March 29, marked the one-year anniversary of his passing, and I was a wreck. At one point, I sat on the floor next to the bookcase, rereading Gwen Cooper’s account of when she had to let her beloved Homer go and ugly-crying like I hadn’t in a long, long time.
The Cat House on the Kings is a shelter in California. TCHOK has a Facebook page with marvelous, supportive, caring members. I posted this tribute to Buddy on Friday, and hundreds of people–nearly all complete strangers–posted reactions and comments, some about Buddy and others about their own blessed senior kitties.
For anybody who’s struggling after the loss of a loved one–regardless of species, and regardless of how long it’s been and whether you think you should be “past it” by now– let this be a reminder that you’re not alone.
******
My sweet Buddy, who died a year ago today. He was a blind, toothless, chubby senior when I adopted him after his previous owner died. Such a love, he was. He didn’t care all that much for being held, but he always wanted to be near me, so we had beds next to the sofa, my desk, my recliner, and my favorite chair on the porch so that he and I could always be within touch of each other.
He was an enormous fan of chicken. He would steal up behind me as I was slicing a piece. (How he could hear me slicing cooked chicken, I’ll never know. He didn’t show up if I was slicing bread or pork, just chicken.) He didn’t jump up or meow or do anything to attract attention. I’d turn and nearly trip over him as he waited patiently for the piece he knew would come his way. When he developed GI issues and we couldn’t find a commercial food that helped, I began cooking for him–boiled chicken and a mix of brown and white rice, run through the food processor and scooped with an ice cream scoop onto a parchment-lined cookie sheet and frozen. I still have a bag labeled “B food” in the basement freezer.
Buddy didn’t care much for toys, even those with bells or other noises. He sometimes enjoyed fuzzy balls with rattles inside, but only when the spirit moved him–which tended to occur at 2 a.m., just as I was about to go to bed.
We had slightly more than three years together. Three years, two months, and seven days. Not nearly enough. There’s a special bond with those who need you more.
Sleep well, my sweet B. Mama loves you.
P. Jo Anne Burgh 
Jo, Gordon and l also miss Buddy. He was a very special cat. If you did not know him you would never suspect he could not see. He loved and was loved by his brothers and sisters. It did not take him long to make his presence known and to establish his place in your little pack. He had a loving heart as big as all outdoors. He will never be forgotten.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much, sweetie. You and Gordon took such good care of him when I was away. It meant the world that you came over that last day to say goodbye to him.
LikeLike
Oh my gosh, this made me cry. We just had to have one of our cats (sisters we adopted 14 years ago) put to sleep a couple of weeks ago. I miss her so much and have cried over her passing more than I did my own youngest brother who died suddenly in January, I’m a bit ashamed to say. Allie was my constant shadow, especially after I retired last August. I miss her terribly. I found your words here about your Buddy so moving.
Here’s the weird thing about my finding this and reading it today, almost 3 weeks to the day that Allie died: Years ago I used to read stories you posted on Bonanza fic sites. They were SO much better than the usual that I’ve always remembered your name. I hardly visit those sites much anymore. Out of boredom, I happened to click on it today just to see if anyone I remember still posts and saw this in the “recent posts” column. I recalled you had cats and just knew Buddy was one of your kitties. Thank you including this link there and for writing this.
Oh, and my youngest son and his girlfriend just this week adopted a 12 year old kitty who is blind and almost deaf. They have been texting me the cutest pictures of Decibel, as she’s called,cuddling up to them. I can’t wait to meet her.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Kay, thank you so much for such kind and lovely comments!
I am so sorry for your losses. When my first cat died, I told my therapist that I felt conspicuous being so upset about a cat. Her response: “Loss is loss.” Each loss is individual, and we grieve them individually. My heart aches for you.
I love the fact that your son and his girlfriend have adopted a special needs senior. There’s a special bond with the ones who need us more. I’m so glad she’s cuddling with them–sounds as if she knows she’s home. Have fun with your new grand-kitty!
Amazing that you found this post through Bonanza. These days, the majority of my posts on the Brand are letting people know that I have a new blog post. I appreciate your kind words about my stories; for the most part, I focus on original fiction these days, but I do occasionally add a quick bit to the library. Most of the people who were there when I started writing have moved on, but there are some wonderful folks there now, so do drop by!
Thanks again for reading Buddy’s tribute and sharing your own experiences!
LikeLike