Over the past few days, I’ve thought about what to write, and came up with a million wonderful things to share about you, about how much of an impact you had on my life, but none are truly sufficient. To a certain extent, I’m in denial that you are gone, and there’ll hopefully be that one time when I put the key in the lock and I will hear you trotting for the door. In reality, all of the light you brought to my life is suddenly missing, and the house is now painfully quiet. I’m not sure how to adequately express my gratitude for how much you enriched my life, but I hope you know how much you were, and still are, loved. You were my best friend these past 17-years. Not once did you ever cause me pain…I don’t think furbabies ever do. You were there with me through most of my 20s, all of my 30s, and the start of my 40s – you saw so much. And, you got me through so many painful moments, with the utmost care and concern, and above all unconditional love. Oh, dear Bun, how I miss you.
I miss your meow. I miss your smell. I miss our snuggle-time. I miss you laying with me while I worked. I miss when you would head bump me at 3am because you wanted breakfast. I miss how pokey your paws were when you walk on my back, when I didn’t get up and get you breakfast until 4am. I miss you reminding me at 6pm it was time for dinner. I miss that you would get mad when the suitcases would come out. I miss you running to the door after I got home. I miss you dragging out every single one of your toys and carrying them to me, one-by-one. I miss how much you hated the car. I miss you loving cheese and summer sausage and croissants and tuna and bacon and salmon and ice cream and radicchio (who knew?). I miss you wanting to be carried over my shoulder. I miss you standing on the side of the tub, talking to me while I took a shower. I miss you pawing at me when it was time to be done working on the computer for the day. I miss you sticking your head in between me and the screen of my phone because you needed attention (and Instagram most certainly does not). I miss you sitting under your orchids. I miss you batting at the ornaments on the Christmas tree. I miss you wanting to curl up under the covers with me in bed. I miss how you loved everyone and wanted to chew on their hair products. I miss the sound of your purr and how soft your fur was. I miss your green eyes, and your sweet little face. I miss how worried you were when I would cry. I miss you watching the birds from the window. I miss you curling up in the sunlight. There are so many more things I miss. Each memory comes to me in the middle of the night, or while I am getting the mail, or when I’m at dinner with S and I cry….wail, actually. While I know that you are no longer in pain, you now only live in my memories…and I am afraid because memories fade with time. You were too good of a friend, so I will do my best to never these beautiful memories fade.
After we lost Ginnie, a friend told me, “When they get old, or when our beloved pets get sick, we’re urged to do the right thing. [We are] told they are depending on us to do the right thing. So, we do it. It’s a selfless and merciful thing to do, but dear GAWD the pain of it to ourselves is searing!” She was unequivocally correct. This pain – the pain of having to walk you (and Ginnie and Missy) to the door, sears my soul. There is massive void left in my life, now that you are gone – a void I don’t think can ever be filled – so I will cope with this gaping hole and do my best to walk through this transition, knowing that you trusted me to free you from suffering. And so, my dear Bun, you will shine on in my heart, until (with hope) I see you again one day soon. I love you, little one. I love you will all my heart, for you have my whole heart.