Kelly

One of the harshest lessons that life is teaching me is the relationship between love and those times that call upon us to do the right thing. You know the act is good for someone else even as you realize that it will tear your heart into a million pieces. Somehow the heart survives and beats on. We realize that our feelings will heal, but there will be a time again in the future when the heart breaks again and the process begins anew.

Kelly was the oldest of our two cats. He took his position in the household very seriously. His natural facial expression was an almost grim-like countenance. At times it could be interpreted as wisdom, while other times one could say that he looked grouchy. His personality, mellow and laid back, was the exact opposite of his little stepsister, Meredith; she is playful and high-spirited. There have been times when I was tempted to rename them after my favorite Marx Brothers: Groucho and Harpo.

Still, he was the friendlier of the two cats. Whenever strangers came in the door, shy Meredith would run and hide. Kelly would come up to everyone, greeting them with a sniff, lots of rubbing, and, if you were lucky, a kiss on your hand.

Within the last few weeks, however, Kelly's age caught up with him. He was found to be diabetic and, even as we planned to begin treatment, the vet found something more serious inside his body. We made appointments for more tests, but in the meantime he lost interest in eating and drinking. We had seen this before with my late father, only a few months ago.

We decided to do what was best for him, even as we realized it would cause us so much grief. Yet we knew our pain couldn’t compare to what he was feeling. So, as we stroked him and told him we loved him, we gave Kelly the gift of eternal rest.

Kelly, I will miss the way you would curl your lip in an Elvis sneer when you had had enough petting for the moment.

I will miss the times you would come up to bed, check to make sure we were all right, lick our hands and lay next to us.

I will miss watching you get all glassy-eyed as you enjoyed the plate of catnip we offered you, usually on Saturday nights.

I will miss times like now, when I was typing on the computer, and you would come up to rub me and lay down next to me, curling your body around the computer mouse.

I will miss seeing you take one of your countless naps on your favorite rocking chair on the sunporch.

I will miss you laying on the couch, waiting for me to finish my daily bicycle exercising.

I will miss when you would hiss at Meredith if she got too close and you weren’t in the mood for any of her shennanigans.

Thank you, Kelly, for loving us the way you did. I hope we made your last years comfortable and happy. God willing, we will meet again. Until then, rest and wait for us. Love, Mommy, Daddy, and Meredith.