Alert: Sad Post Ahead

My tribute movie to Buddy is pretty much done except for picking a soundtrack, except I might skip the soundtrack altogether. I can’t find the song that sums up how I feel, ie: “You were the greatest thing in the world and now you’re dead.”

I was hunting around for a specific movie clip of Buddy and instead found lots of pictures that I’d rejected and thrown away. I pulled out two. Not because they’re good, but because it hit me, this is it. No more new pictures of Buddy ever again. All the pictures I have now are all the pictures I will ever have.

This first one was taken at the end of this year’s spring cleaning. I was going for a panoramic shot of my sparkly and ridiculously clean apartment.

The one below was taken on June 26th, two months before Buddy died. I was still feeling hopeful then. Now it feels sad to see him look outside, with longing, toward a world that would soon go on without him. He always wanted to go out there (to kill birds!) and of course I never let him. And now that’s all over. Oh God.

This shot kinda kills me. I think it’s because I can’t do anything nice for him anymore. I can’t let him out there, not that I ever would. I can’t give him toys, or treats or food, or take him to vet to help him feel better. I can’t pull out the laser pointer which made him go insane he was so anxious to chase that little red light.

I so loved doing whatever made him happy. If you have a pet you know exactly what I’m talking about. For dog owners it must be reaching for the leash and your dog going nuts. It’s such a pleasure for the both of you, when you can give them exactly what they want. Poor little Buddy.

Stacy Horn

I've written six non-fiction books, the most recent is Damnation Island: Poor, Sick, Mad, and Criminal in 19th-Century New York.

View all posts by Stacy Horn →

5 thoughts on “Alert: Sad Post Ahead

  1. What a handsome cat. And what is left to say — you’ve said it all. It is a fearsome thing to love what time can touch (that’s from a tombstone c. 1774 in CT). And there is o other way to love, not on this planet, in this universe. Time gets us all.

    But he’s such a handsome boy. You were right to love him like crazy.

  2. Love that tombstone reference, Vivian…made me mindful of how brave we are to love…and thankful for the opportunities. And you, Stacy, took advantage of those for dear Buddy (except for maybe satisfying his “bird lust”).

  3. I have a pretty good idea of how you feel, Stacy. It really is what we all want, to see our pets happy because it makes us happy. And when there’s nothing more we can do for them, it’s the most helpless and frustrating feeling in the world. Our final act of love, to let them go, to let them rest, is at the same time ripping our hearts apart. After I said goodbye to my little kitty, I posted this on facebook: I hurt now but I know she doesn’t. In a way I think we take on their pain.

    I don’t think we can ever “get over it,” and I don’t think the pain ever truly goes away. But it gets duller, doesn’t it? When we think of the ones we’ve lost, the pain will always be there – but I believe it settles into the background, allowing the good memories and the love we felt (and feel) to live in the foreground. That’s how we carry on. That’s how we don’t go truly insane with grief, and how we are able to love again.

  4. That is such a beautiful and perfect cover of that song. I’m going use it I think (I have to buy it first). I’m going to need to come up with several songs. My video is currently 15 and a half minutes long. Insane.

    Thank you all for responding, it helps as always. I love that quote Vivian, “It is a fearsome thing to love what time can touch.”

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