by He was always there. This is why losing pets is in some ways worse than losing people. They are much more present, weirdly. (Please note I am saying “in some ways.” Losing people is harder in other ways, of course.) Also, you feel so responsible for them. Oh God. Oh God. Another scar on my heart. I don’t believe life will ever be as good without him in it. (Yes, I know how that sounds. I know I will be happy again, but there will always be a hole, where he once was.)
I took this on November 17, 2011. I’m so grateful iPhoto keeps track of dates.
At noon tomorrow, I will close my eyes for a few minutes & think of you & Buddy. I know other people will be thinking of you then, too. Lots of us understand.
Oh Stacy, I’m so sorry. I so relate to your feeling of having that close presence in your life with pets that transcends relationships with people..definitely not the same, but one of such purity, engagement and total acceptance. This picture of Buddy rather says it all for me. I’ll be thinking of you especially tomorrow and hoping that you’ll find consolation in knowing how much love you and Buddy shared in your lives together.
So very sorry Stacy. Buddy lived up to his name: he was always, always your little “buddy.”
Pets always give us unconditional love in the purest, more precious form. Nothing can ever replace that, but I know that Buddy will be there on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge waiting for you. I know you’ve probably read it before, but every time I lose a beloved pet it helps to read this again:
The Rainbow Bridge
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together….
Author unknown…
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I’ll be thinking of you & Buddy tomorrow…
Oh, Stacy, I’m so sorry. Ok, the tears are flowing now. It really is just the worse thing in so many ways. When it’s just you and your cats, well, it just is different. Buddy was so very lucky to have been saved by you and his life & time with you was special and I’m sure he would tell you how much so if he could!
I’m so very sorry that you are losing your sweet friend. I have felt connected to you (and Buddy) since reading Waiting For My Cats To Die. It seems so long ago that I read it, and it is — a whole cat lifetime ago. I agree that it’s harder in many ways to lose a pet than a person. A pet has a singular presence in the home. I’ll be thinking of Buddy and you tomorrow.
Stacey,
I came across your blog last fall when my cat was very ill with what was likely lymphoma. I was searching for information and reassurance and so found Buddy’s story. Sadly, my little kitty was soon rapidly loosing her battle with cancer (which turned out to be a fairly aggressive form of multiple myeloma) after the initial round of chemo stopped working, and I made the so very difficult decision to let her rest in early December.
We will always have a piece of out heart missing after losing a pet, but we also carry them with us in our hearts forever. They will always be with us, in a way, for as long as we live and remember them. And Buddy will be remembered not only by you, but by everyone who have had the privilege to know him a little bit through your blog.
Sleep tight, little Buddy. Sweet, sweet dreams. <3
Poor puss 🙁 Poor you too.
I lost my 19-year-old cat two years ago and I miss him like crazy but now when I think of him, I smile instead of cry.
Poor Buddy. Take care of yourself. x
Beautiful photo — Buddy has the most perfect ears. And he as the face of a cat who knows in his bones how deeply he is loved.
I’ll be thinking of you both at noon today. (Boy, it’s hard to type when there are tears in your eyes.)
Pete Hamill said it best — when Frank Sinatra died, Mr. Hamill wrote about his feeling that life just became a whole lot emptier for him: “It feels as if a thousand people have suddenly left the room.”
There’s no way it’s not going to suck, going back to that empty room without Buddy. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for all our empty rooms.
Stacy, I’m so very sorry. You are absolutely right that losing pets is in some ways worse than losing people. Pets are a part of our everyday lives in a way that no human can ever be to another human.
As the owner of a senior cat, I constantly think about losing her and how I will cope. I will look to your handling of Buddy’s last days as a guide to letting go and letting our beloved companions leave this world as stress-free as possible.
You gave Buddy a happy, comfortable life and I hope you’ll be able to remember him with smiles instead of tears soon enough.
Stacy, my heart has been breaking reading your updates. You and Buddy are in my thoughts.
Thinking of you at this difficult time. It’s so hard to say goodbye to a dear friend like Buddy. He will always be in your heart.
Stacy, I have tears in my eyes. I pray for as much peace as you can have this day and the days to come. I pray for comfort for you and Finney. I am so sorry! Hugs to Buddy and Finney and their mother.
I know how it is, on the last day. You count the hours, you count the minutes. You feel excruciating guilt because you know what he doesn’t know. But he knows that you are always there for him, and he’s tired now, and he knows that you are there for him today.
Peace to Buddy and to you & Finney.
I’m so sorry to hear this.
I read “Waiting For My Cats To Die” back in 2001 when I had to let go of my first-generation cat Pongo, and I know how much Buddy meant to you.
Condolences to you and to Finney.
These comments are so amazing and wonderful. I don’t have the heart or energy to do them justice, but you will never know, all of you, how much they help. Thank you.