Grief

People who have never had pets don’t understand. Pets are your children who never really grow up. They never stop loving you or needing you. They don’t move away to live their own lives. They don’t judge. You never become “lame” or old in their eyes.

Patches would wait in the window every day for me to come home. She would meet me at the door and often race me to the bedroom and jump up on the bed wanting me to toss crinkle balls to her that she would swat back to me out of mid air. I kept thinking I need take a video of her playing swat the crinkle ball, there would always be time. Our time ran out. I really wish I had made that video. Oh course she didn’t care, playing with me was all that mattered to her. She would play for just a few minutes then flop down on bed all tuckered out.

Patches lived with us for almost a decade. She had her faults, but was always very sweet and gentle. She had a good life with us and a calm painless end. Logic suggests that I should be happy that she is no longer suffering and happy for the time she was with us. And I am. Yet here I am at work sitting in front of the computer monitor with tears streaming down my face.

Maybe it’s because they are so dependent on us. We love our pets and want them to have good lives. But eventually there is nothing we can do for them except ease their suffering.

Patches is the third pet I have outlived. It doesn’t ever get easier.

The Mrs sent me this image a week ago.

Hillary’s Bed

Got this bed to go in the bedroom for Sir Edmund Hillary, but he never used it there. So we put it in the kitchen up against the window that gets the late afternoon sun. He eventually discovered it and claimed it as his.

He’s twitching so he must be dreaming.

I think that he and Pickles miss Patches. The Mrs says she heard one of them meowing as if calling for her.

Patches empty bed …