Grief and Love

I miss Rosie terribly. It's been ten years since I lost a pet before this, and I guess I forgot just how much it hurts. There will never be another cat like my sweet, sassy little Rosie Lee.

How strange it is to be feeling love for Jenny with equal intensity, and now, for her new "little" sister, Molly, as well.

I couldn't shake the thought Monday afternoon and early evening that I wanted to go "see the kitties" at PetsMart. Therefore, after work I decided to go and just take a look. All the cats there (about 9 or 10) have been fostered out of a neighboring county's Humane Society, and most had very sad stories, such as a woman with 15 (!) cats having had a stroke and needing to find homes for all of the cats, and at least one other cat who had lived with Molly when their human died, back in November, and they'd been in a foster home ever since. I talked to and picked up several cats. One of them looked so much like Rosie that I cried. She didn't like that too much, poor thing! But Molly stole my heart. It was as if my lap was made for her, and she took it over, purring and play-rolling and gazing up at me with her brilliant green eyes. She's mostly black with very plush fur, with white whiskers and a tiny white chin, white socks, and darling bikini markings on her tummy. I've always had either ear kitties or chin kitties before (preferring to be scratched on one but not the other), but Molly likes both. In fact, I haven't found anywhere yet that Molly doesn't like to have scratched! And it's been years since I had a cat who really liked lap-sitting, but Molly has let it be known that my lap is her favorite seat in the house. She and Jenny are getting to know each other, though Molly did hiss and growl a bit when Jenny took that to a too-personal level. I think the two of them have the potential to be much better companions for each other than Rosie and Jenny were. Rosie was so strongly an alpha cat that Jenny was constantly on the defensive, though occasionally I would find them on the recliner together, almost touching, catching a nap in between epic battles.

I have been reminded once again that one never gets a new pet to "replace" one who dies. If we love our pets, they come to occupy a unique place in our hearts, I think. So I have to figure out how to both mourn Rosie and welcome Molly at the same time. So far, Molly has made that much easier: it's a great comfort to have a warm furry little creature on my lap, needing much petting, while I cry for a cute little brown-and-white tabby who left this world far too soon.

Rest in peace, sweet girl Rosie - your mama misses you and hopes to see you again someday. (In the mean time, do try not to intimidate the other kitties at the Rainbow Bridge, OK?)

Welcome to your new family, my beautiful Molly, and thank you for choosing me to come home with.

Both of you are gifts from God, and I'm grateful.

Good-bye, Rosie

I'm again breaking my blogging hiatus, this time for a very sad reason.

My little Rosie, one of my two feline companions for the past ten years, died suddenly and unexpectedly yesterday. I don't think I've fully grasped yet that her little chirps of happiness won't be greeting me when I get home anymore, nor will her little body twine around my feet almost to the point of tripping me when it's mealtime, or just "mama time."

Jenny seems quite upset by her death, and has already taken to talking a lot more, as if to ask where her sister-cat is. They may have fought like the proverbial cats and dogs, but they kept each other company during my long hours away from home. Every so often, detente would break forth and I'd catch them napping together on the recliner, almost touching.

I haven't figured out a pat theology of how our pets will figure into eternity, but my head keeps telling me that Rosie is just fine now and forever. My heart simply misses her terribly.

To those inclined to prayer for this kind of grief, I thank you for it.