For all the good news I’ve had in the last few weeks, it was invetiable that something bad would come along. Sorry, but that’s just the way it is sometimes. At least in my life, the good is always tempered with the bad.
For the last 18 and half years, I’ve had a beloved furry companion – my cat Ollie. It seems like he has always been in my life. In fact he was a year older than my first born son. And yes, I did say was.
Earlier in the week, we were told that he had a terminal condition. You know the kind that can’t be fixed. So we took him home, made him comfortable and gave him even more love than he normally received already. But today, he told us he was ready to go. And, even though it was so hard, we did.
Ollie didn’t pass alone. We were there for him, petting him, telling him we loved him. I’m proud of my fifteen year old son, he stayed too. My oldest declined to come. But that was okay. He was there when our 13 old dalmatian, Sparky, died last October. I’m proud of my sons. I know at their age, I wouldn’t have had the courage to stay in that room and watch a beloved pet die.
I wish I could say I won’t have to do this again. But, I will. At least three more times. We still have two, 12 year old cats (brother and sister, no less) and another 13 year old Dalmatian. And I expect it will still hurt, just like it did for all our other departed pets (Nestlè, Dottie, Captain).
But, that’s what love is – staying together – good moments and bad. And I wouldn’t trade any of those 18 and half years. They were all great and worth these moments of pain I’m feeling now.
See you on the other side, buddy!