I am not sturdy.  Many folks from this area have been brought up with the reality of the life and death of creatures and seem to be better able to accept this whole “circle of life” thing.  Not me.  I am not sturdy like that.  I don’t kill things (with the exception of mosquitoes and flies that Bogie doesn’t eat).  I feel for living things and even though I fully understand the realities of food and life generally, I just cannot focus on it as I am – I reiterate – not sturdy.

On Sunday, our old family cat – Cookie – had to be put to sleep.  My son Cory was good enough to take him in because I just couldn’t do it.  Cookie started off as Cory’s cat (as virtually all pets do – they start out as a child’s pet and end up a mom responsibility).  He showed up on our doorstep one freezing winter when we lived in Kindred and although I was content to set up a cozy box on the porch for him Cory was sure he’d freeze to death if left outside overnight. Something about my kids evidencing compassion for creatures has always been a weak spot with me (as it was with my mother – and so the imprint is strong); so in came Cookie in the dead of winter.

He wasn’t Cookie to Cory though.  To Cory and his friends he was Tony.  Cheyenne and I took to calling him Cookie as he reminded us of the cat in one of her books named Cookie.  Cookie never seemed to mind having two names – he answered to both.  He spent an awful lot of time with Cory in his room in the early years he lived with us.   It really wasn’t until Cory grew up and moved out that Cookie even really considered my lap a place of interest.  It was in the years that followed that I became attached to Cookie.  He was a very loyal cat and always sought to be near me (after his old best friend moved away).

I don’t know how old Cookie was when he came to us, but I suspect he was a few years old by the time he showed up on our doorstep.  He had obviously belonged to someone at one point as he was neutered, but it was clear from his raggedy appearance that he had been out on the streets for awhile.  We had Cookie with us for about ten years.  This past year his age had shown, but he remained quite spry till the last few weeks.

It kinda’ breaks my heart a bit to be parted from creatures I have come to love.  It has happened too many times through the years and never really gets any easier – truly I hate it.  I know he was, as some folks would put it, “just a cat.” I know that all losses being relative, the loss of an old cat that led a good life is not the most tragic of events; and indeed, this is far from the first farewell I have had to to say to a beloved pet.  But it really never gets any easier for me…I never toughen up…I never get sturdier.

We’ll miss Cookie.  He was a loyal friend and he gave us an awful lot of love through the years.  I know I will likely face this type of reality a few more times in my life and I know that I will be as abysmal at it then as I am now.  I suspect that not being sturdy is a core tenet of my personality and while I wish I was stronger at moments like this, I recognize that within my lack of sturdiness is a heightened appreciation for living things and a greater capacity to love and appreciate them.

Goodbye old friend…you will be missed.

Day four hundred and twenty of the new forty – obla di obla da

Ms. C