Long Distance Hugs

The kind messages and 'virtual hugs' from my blog friends and Face Book friends have warmed my heart today.

As I have written before, there is a kinship amongst those who love animals, who delight in having pets to share their space.

When we post the amusing [or exasperating] stories and photos of our cats or dogs or horses, we know that others are relating-- chuckling over acts of mischief which we recognize all too well, delighting in the cleverness of an animal we will never meet in real time.

And when a friend loses a dear one we grieve with them. Tears well up and we are quick to send words of sympathy, because we have been in that painful place and know that we will be 

there again.

I have noticed previously that when one of my cats dies, the other felines in the household are aware.

They cannot articulate in words and perhaps their feelings of loss or change vanish far more quickly than ours.

In most cases they notice that one of their number has been taken away in the cat carrier--and that the carrier returns empty.

Teasel Cat was solicitously concerned for Eggnog in the days of her decline.  She spent much time hovering nearby, often staying beside her for hours in the bed atop the storage bin.

After we buried Eggnog I removed the towels and old blanket from the top of the bin, put them into the wash.

I swept the floor, wiped down the bin and folded a fresh piece of fleece material on top.

It was after 11 PM when I finished canning the green bean harvest of the day. I had tidied the kitchen and was headed along the hall to the bedroom when I realized that the light was on downstairs. For the 18 days of Eggnog's residence downstairs I had left on a florescent light--day and night.

Having the light on made my frequent forays downstairs safer and simpler. Also, perhaps unreasonably, I didn't want to leave my cat in the dark.

Teasel followed me down the stairs.

She walked to the bin, sniffed the clean blanket, prowled about, returned to the bin where she had so recently kept vigil over Eggnog.

As she paced back and forth, she'talked' to me--seeming to ask, 'Where is she?'

Several times today I have found her sitting half way down the stairs. Was she waiting for her friend to return?

I think that by tomorrow the feline ranks will have closed, their skittishness will subside.

My own sadness reaches out today to encircle my older grand daughter who lives in Colorado.

Her rescue cat, Captain Eugene Breakfast, keeled over dead this afternoon while being chased through the house by his jealous housemate, Smokey.

We support each other--with our tears, our words, our hugs, we who are 'foolish' about our animals.