Buddy



 


Last Monday, I lost Buddy. Apparently he was jumping from a tall wooden fence, caught his paw on a shorter, chain-link fence, lost his balance and broke his neck. I’m certain I found him only a few minutes after he fell.

Other than a instant of having a cut paw, I don’t think he felt any pain. I, on the other hand, felt quite a bit.

Simply put, it tore my heart out to lose him.  I cried a river the night I found him, and when I buried him the next day. But even though he’d be alive still if I hadn’t start letting him out six weeks earlier, I know I made the right decision. The last six weeks of his short life were simply packed with joy.

Buddy

Remember when you came to me,
Barely more than a kitten?

Remember when you were at first frightened
of the big black cat in your new home?
And how soon you became friends and brothers?

Remember your aikido matches on the living room rug?
Your daily lessons with Talbot,
Throwing you as you’d try to lunge at him unseen?
You a white blur, him, a black,
together a yin and yang of fun and fight.

Remember how you enjoyed sleeping next to me
And telling me that when the sun comes up,
I should too?

Remember the massages I gave you when I came home?
Kneading the loose skin between your shoulders,
putting my hand on your back
and beaming all the love in the world to you?

Remember discovering how wonderfully warm a seat
my monitor was,
with the benefit of putting you in petting reach
while I surfed the Web?

Remember rocketing and ricocheting from room to room,
inviting Talbot and me to the chase?

Remember watching the great outdoors on the windowsill with Talbot?

Remember when you decided to seize your freedom
by breaking the window screens?

Remember the first time I let you run and play outside?
How I told you to be careful? How worried I was?

Remember jumping and landing vertical on tree trunks?

Remember the food you killed and brought home to me?
Four squirrels and a pigeon, Buddy, mighty hunter.

Remember how the neighbors laughed
to see you come running at my call?

Remember when you were kidnapped by a do-gooder
who thought you were lost?

Remember how you left, jumping off a fence, and onto a cloud?

I will never forget.

Bonan nokton, mia kara katetĉjo.

16 thoughts on “Buddy

  1. I am so sorry to hear of your loss, Jon. I’m glad Buddy’s death was swift and relatively painless. He died performing one of his important catly duties, Jumping.

  2. Ohhh!! I’m so sorry to hear that. What a magnificent cat. Four squirrels and a pigeon? No wonder he wanted to go out, that’s the hunting instinct of a lion!

  3. Thanks, both of you.

    Margreet, it’s even more remarkable was that once, he brought me a pidgeon in the morning, a squirrel in the afternoon, and then another squirrel the very next morning.

  4. I am sorry to hear about your cat. 🙁 I haven’t checked your site in a bit and it really is heartbreaking to read. I lost my beloved dog of 16 years last January. Someone once told me our pets love so perfectly that they only have to remain here for a brief time. Once again, you have my sympathy.

  5. I am so sorry to read your cat died.Iknow how you feel.My cat died in my arms on New Years Eve. My children all took turns to hold her and say goobye,my husband cried for hours after she died. My dog really misses her too. Ihope things get better for you,Ifeel so sad for you because Iknow how you feel.many blessings kate.

  6. Sandy, Dan, Kate, Thanks to all of you.

    I’m about ready to get another cat. Talbot needs a playmate when I’m gone, and the apartment seems quite empty with just one.

  7. I am way late in saying so, but I’m so sorry for your loss! 🙁 This post made me tear up. It would crush me to pieces to lose any of my little fur babies. *hugs*

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