Thursday, October 10, 2013
I know people with human offspring roll their eyes when people like me (born minus the urge to replicate and surgically ensuring that outcome at age 22) refer to pets as their children, but love is love and loss is loss, regardless of species. You share your love, your life, your bed, and your heart with these creatures, so when they go the pain is all-encompassing.
Fortunately I never lose sight of the fact that I am borne aloft on an immeasurable wave of love and support. Lefty and I had a good run together, and he went out in the best way possible. He managed to leave the party while he was still having a good time, which is more than a lot of us ever get. His days were filled with good food, cool sinks, running faucets, and high thread count down bedding. He had toys, perches, and friends of both human and feline variety.
It's going to be a while before I stop hearing him howl out the news of the day to no one in particular until I can finally get him into bed, where he will paw at me until I lie in a snuggle-appropriate configuration, and before I will stop offering my arm for him to curl up into for some quality face-rubbing.
He was a Good Boy and as with all adored pets, I had hoped we'd have more time together.