Our Gus died this week. He was a common-looking tabby with uncommonly sweet green eyes, filled with the same uncomplaining gratitude as his mother’s, a stray named Elsa whom we also adopted and lost too soon. But I suppose all death feels too soon; Gus was a senior citizen by kitty standards. Still, we were not prepared for the tumor that quickly overtook his lymph node, growing monstrously in a week, and slowly choking him to death.
Gus was unbelievably kind-natured. He could not sleep alone; he had to be snuggled up against at least one other member of our household, and preferably several. He liked nothing better than to be petted, to bump his striped head against a person, or if necessary, any random soft thing. They say cats are loners. Gussie was proof positive that people say a lot of wrong-headed things about cats.
Although I love autumn — as do so many of us — I find that quite a bit of mourning is associated with this time. So many people I know have lost someone dear to them during these months, and the falling of the leaves, the dying of the light, all remind them of this loss. My friends Alice and Gina lost their mothers in the autumn. I lost my father, as did my friend Maureen.
Some say animals don’t belong in heaven; they have no souls. I cannot countenance such remarks. I think animals know God in a different way than we do, perhaps a more primal way — which is not to say a lesser way. In fact, they may know God more intimately than we can ever hope to. And I cannot believe in a heaven that does not include our pet friends. The day after Gus died, my husband wrote me the following message: “I like to think that when Gus-Gus isn’t teaching “Headbutting With Love” seminars and chasing featherstrings for hours without getting winded, he is snuggled in the middle of the biggest catpile ever.” It helped. But nothing can take away the pain right now. And nothing should. Every life should be mourned, however small, however furry.
Gus taught me that to be loving is a life’s work. And a darned good one, at that. I just hope that his passage was quick and painless, that in an instant, he found himself in that great catpile in the sky. In this season of death, sweet whiskered friend, I pray you found safe passage.
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October 6, 2015 at 4:46 pm
rhcwilliams
Oh, Lori, I’m so sorry for your loss. This is such a beautiful tribute! It made me tear up. My cat bumps against any open drawer, my leg, the laundry bag hanging on the doorknob. Sometimes startles the jujubes out of me when I’m at the sink, washing dishes! They add so much warmth to our lives, don’t they? You’re in my prayers, dear friend.
October 7, 2015 at 4:06 pm
calensariel
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together….
Author unknown…
When our last cat in a string of 14 of them we raised from two litters as we couldn’t find people to take them even after having them spayed and neutered passed, we decided to have a wake for her. She was 19. For the last couple years she’d slept in a basket in the bathroom right in front of the wall vent because it was warm there and she was always cold. After we had her put to sleep, we put her BACK in her basket for a day. We petted her often throughout the day while her soul was finding its way to heaven. Then we buried her in the backyard with a whole slew of other pets. I wished we had done that for all of them… (They weren’t house cats, btw, till the last two. We lived next to a huge filed…)
October 7, 2015 at 4:15 pm
loristrawn
Again, you understand me only too well, my friend. Thank you for this.
October 7, 2015 at 4:32 pm
calensariel
{{{Lori}}}
October 10, 2015 at 3:40 am
suebe
Lori,
I’m so sorry to hear about your loss. And it is such a loss. Pets hold such a special place in our lives. Know that we are holding you up and holding you dear.
–SueBE
October 10, 2015 at 3:40 pm
loristrawn
I don’t know how to “like” a comment, so…thank you, dear Sue.