As I flipped through my Facebook this afternoon, I came across a posting from Kevin Smith announcing the passing of his beloved pet, his "son", Mulder after 17 years of unconditional love and companionship. My heart goes out to him in this time of sadness. Not only because I'm a fan of Kevin's, but as an animal lover and a pet owner myself. In the backs of our minds, as pet owners, we all know that we'll eventually have to bid farewell to our "fur babies", but somehow we tuck it away until it eventually comes to fruition, becoming overwhelmed with sadness, instead of preparing for it.
When I chose to adopt my boy, Monkey, I had to mentally prepare myself for that inevitable end. I thought I could handle it, but since he came to live with me, nearly five years ago, I've come to realize that when that day comes, I'm going to be a complete wreck. I love that cat more than I do anyone or anything else in the entire world. I can only hope that he lives to be seventeen or eighteen years young, if not longer.
I recall as a young boy, my cousin getting himself an Irish Setter. He named it "Sarge", which is a name he'd chosen years before and though (in my opinion) the name never suited the brownish red dog, his name was Sarge and that was that. Sarge was "technically" my cousin's dog, but Sarge took to my uncle more. All about the small town, my uncle could be seen driving his pick-up truck and there was Sarge, stoically riding shotgun. That pick-up truck belonged to my uncle, but it also belonged to Sarge. So much so, in fact, that no one could approach the truck when my uncle wasn't around. No one including my cousin, the dog's rightful owner.
Eventually, my cousin grew older and left home, pursuing life's ambitions outside that small northern Saskatchewan town, leaving Sarge behind with my uncle. They were virtually inseparable for his remaining years and eventually Sarge would pass away, leaving my uncle heartbroken. The years since his passing, the subject of getting another dog has come up only to be stifled by my uncle, on the basis that he did not wish to go through the experience of losing another beloved pet. I never fully understood that thought process until my boy came into my life. Now I'm not sure I could ever replace him when he shuffles off this mortal coil.
When I chose to adopt my boy, Monkey, I had to mentally prepare myself for that inevitable end. I thought I could handle it, but since he came to live with me, nearly five years ago, I've come to realize that when that day comes, I'm going to be a complete wreck. I love that cat more than I do anyone or anything else in the entire world. I can only hope that he lives to be seventeen or eighteen years young, if not longer.
I recall as a young boy, my cousin getting himself an Irish Setter. He named it "Sarge", which is a name he'd chosen years before and though (in my opinion) the name never suited the brownish red dog, his name was Sarge and that was that. Sarge was "technically" my cousin's dog, but Sarge took to my uncle more. All about the small town, my uncle could be seen driving his pick-up truck and there was Sarge, stoically riding shotgun. That pick-up truck belonged to my uncle, but it also belonged to Sarge. So much so, in fact, that no one could approach the truck when my uncle wasn't around. No one including my cousin, the dog's rightful owner.
Eventually, my cousin grew older and left home, pursuing life's ambitions outside that small northern Saskatchewan town, leaving Sarge behind with my uncle. They were virtually inseparable for his remaining years and eventually Sarge would pass away, leaving my uncle heartbroken. The years since his passing, the subject of getting another dog has come up only to be stifled by my uncle, on the basis that he did not wish to go through the experience of losing another beloved pet. I never fully understood that thought process until my boy came into my life. Now I'm not sure I could ever replace him when he shuffles off this mortal coil.
My cat drives me nuts some days, from his nonsensical bawling to repeatedly leaving morsels of food scattered around the house or streams of projected vomit. I've got an assortment of stains in my carpet that vaguely resemble the spots on a leopard's hide and deep scratches stretched across all my leather furniture and oak banisters, but truth be known, I would not trade a single annoyance for anything. Every facet that drives me nuts, is also endearing to me. Like I said before, I love that boy more than I do anything or anyone in my life. Gun to my head, if I had to choose between my cat and the life of a (human) loved one, I can honestly say I don't know. I'd probably choose my cat, as he's never deserted me, shunned me, judged me or given up on me. The love of a pet is unconditional. That means no matter what, they love you, where as I've found with my human counterparts, there's ALWAYS a condition.
For now, I'm going to enjoy every minute of every day of every week, month, year and (hopefully) decades of my time with that cat. And if you're a pet owner, might I suggest you do the same. I know that's what Kevin Smith has done with his pets and though his loss today seems insurmountable, he'll survive. He's a strong fellow, who inspires me everyday in ways that I'm, consciously, not even fully aware of. My heart goes out to him today. CREDITS!
For now, I'm going to enjoy every minute of every day of every week, month, year and (hopefully) decades of my time with that cat. And if you're a pet owner, might I suggest you do the same. I know that's what Kevin Smith has done with his pets and though his loss today seems insurmountable, he'll survive. He's a strong fellow, who inspires me everyday in ways that I'm, consciously, not even fully aware of. My heart goes out to him today. CREDITS!
*The picture above is of Kevin Smith embracing Mulder.*
I dedicate this blog to them and to all pet owners who embrace the love of a pet.
I dedicate this blog to them and to all pet owners who embrace the love of a pet.
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