Yesterday, my cat Paws, died. I was a little shocked at first as it was an unexpected death; she was run over by a car. There was a knock on a door and a nice young lady asked if the cat she had wrapped in a towel was ours. She said someone had run it over on the road in front of our house.
My husband held her lifeless, still warm body wrapped in a towel and gave me a saddened look. I rubbed the top of her head with my fingers, and whispered, "Come on honey, are you still alive?"
"She's dead, sweetheart," my husband said softly.
"It doesn't pay to take her to the vet then, if she's dead."
"I'm sorry, honey," he whispered. But it seemed he was almost more saddened by the whole experience than I was, even though she was my cat. He had never been overly fond of my cats. Not that he hated them or anything he just never took much interest in them so I knew the concern and sadness on his face was for me and not for the lifeless kitty he was holding.
I shrugged, "Animals die."
"I'll get a shovel and bury her in the backyard," and that's exactly what he did.
As he walked out the door with her I realized that what I said sounded kind of calloused. I'd seen plenty of animals die in my life and I had been close to many of them, especially as a child. I had grown quite attached to my sweet snuggle-bug Paws that had chosen me to take her in when she was a kitten, but it just seemed a natural part of life to me.
I thought about a conversation my husband and I had had a few weeks back when he was talking about the horse he had lost as a child and how much it had affected him. He was upset that everything he seemed to become attached to was taken from him. I had said words to him then that had rung out true to me when he was standing there holding my departed friend in his arms, "If you don't want to lose something you love, than you can't love. You have to decide if going through the pain of losing it is worth loving it in the first place. What's more important to you? The pain of losing something or someone or the joy of loving that thing or person?"
I realized something about death through the words I had spoken to try and comfort my husband and the thought was comforting as I wished goodbye to my departed snuggle-bug. The joy of having her as a pet far outweighed the sadness of losing her suddenly. I wouldn't have traded the time I spent with her to not have to be sad at losing her.
Animals die, people die, a lot of things die, it's a fact of life. Life isn't about death though, death is just a natural course, a natural end to a story. The story may be beautiful or ugly. The story may be sad or happy. The story normally has ups or downs and can affect a few or a lot of people. Stories intertwine as one person's life affect that of another person. Paws is a part of my story and I'm glad she was because death isn't the story of the person or the thing. The story of that thing of that person is the life of it and it can be a privilege just to be a part of a story or have something be a part of yours.
In her passing, Paws left me with a little bit of truth. I'm sad to see her go but I'll remember her as the bundle of energy that just laser lots across the hardwood floor, not as something that died because that's not a story at all, that's just the end of a beautiful story. A story that can continue in the minds and hearts of those affected by it.
Goodbye Paws. Thank you for the memories.
