For all the love and joy and fun animals have brought to my life, all their stories end in inevitable sadness. Not, for the most part, in the sense that anything bad necessarily happened to them. They just all have such short lives.
There is nothing I would change, if I had to do it all over. I rejoice in the memories of the pets that have shared my life. My tears and anguish do not honor them.
I am intelligent enough to realize that the intensity of my grieving over animals is not normal. It’s all tied in to the depression I have had most of my life. For the most part, these days, it is under control. But I have to be very careful to avoid my triggers.
It’s just hard when what you love passionately is what also brings you so much grief. But if that is the worst I have to bear in life, I count myself fortunate.
As I wrote yesterday, Panther’s death was the hardest thing I ever endured. Writing about it was good, but inevitably it was also very hard.
When I was done, I lifted my head and saw that Willow had crept in to be with me. She brushed against me, purring and I buried my face in her softness. She is one of life’s little mysteries. She came out of nowhere to be with me when I was having such a hard time after losing Panther. Why would I find comfort in her that I could not find in my other cats that I love so much? Why does she touch that same particular space in my heart that Panther and Yeti both did?
I don’t seek answers to questions like that. I just accept that it is so and I thank the Universe for sending me these unique and special creatures that make me feel alive.