Remembering Lucky, My Beloved Cat.

Edition #139 — January 19, 2011

As a perpetually optimistic person, sorrow is a rare and unfamiliar feeling in my emotional vocabulary. Yet since the unexpected death of my precious cat, Lucky, I have been followed by that shadow each day. Whenever my mind is not distracted by some task I become sad again and often cry. This is my grieving process as I adjust to life without Lucky's presence in my life each day, as had always been my blessing.

Unconditional Love

It may seem odd to some that I would feel this way about "just a cat" but in truth it is often as painful to lose a cherished pet as it is a member of one's family, sometimes even more. The loss of a pet creates a hole in our life that no human being could fill because pets have a far less conditional relationship with us than people do. Yes, they exhibit some of the same competitive and controlling behavior as us, but in general pets accept us for who and what we are, all of it. There is nothing that we must do to gain their acceptance but to show up and be ourselves. We never have to worry that they think we are flawed in some way. Furthermore, each minute spent with our pet is done in the present; there is no talk of the past or future because only we think ourselves out of enjoying the richness of the present moment by obsessing about time. Pets help us to keep spiritually focussed on "right now."

Perhaps most important of all, our pets offer us an unconditional conduit through which we can express our love. In my case, every minute that I spent with Lucky was one of mutual engagement. We were both always aware of each others presence and celebrating this fact in some way. I would sing "cat songs" to her as she sat watching me prepare her food. We played constantly and teased each other. She was a brilliantly aware cat. A master. For her part, she followed me everywhere in the house and ran to the windowsill when I went outdoors and ran to the door to greet me when I returned. She waited over an hour outside the door at times when I read in the bathtub. Then I'd let her in to snoop around, and off we'd go to our next event, which was likely a snack for the two of us.

In stark contrast, this is not how we interact with human beings and why pets can often bring far more fulfilling emotional rewards into our life than ordinary relationships. We can serve them and not be judged for how we serve; we can be free to express ourselves without having the weight of another's fear or expectations inhibiting our spirit. This is the gift that Lucky had given me over our short five years of friendship and why I cry today and probably will for some time to come.

Someday

I find my grief annoying at some level, yet accept it as inevitable. It allows me to pay tribute to a friend who deserved to be honored by my deepest, rawest and most heartfelt emotions. I am sad at the memory of how she suffered before dying and that I desperately tried yet failed to save her from an illness that remains a mystery. I am sad also for me; for that vast dark emptiness that has been created by Lucky's absence. Throughout my life I had always been a very publicly engaged person yet now I value my solitude. This makes the loss of Lucky's companionship even more painful when I realize that there is no worthy substitute for this animal who I felt was the love of my life. Yes, I have suffered loss before, yet this is a new kind of pain. I recall how I felt when two long term romantic relationships ended but somehow the mix of bitterness always tempered the sorrow of loss. Now there is no bitterness to hide behind, only loss and perhaps regret about what I might have done in hindsight to save her. But ultimately, I did my best and cannot change the outcome of a fate that neither I nor extensive veterinary care were able to overrule.

I sincerely expect that one day, some day, once I have taken my own last breath, that Lucky and I will be reunited. It is even well-documented in clinical studies of "near death" that a dying person will often first encounter their cat. Let God wait in line — I want to see Lucky first! Until then, I have a life to live that continues to demand that I fill it with joy and inspiration. I am still qualified and eager to fulfill that mission. I hope you are too.


Roland Kriewaldt


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