Imagine the mutt-iest Mutt, black and white, seemingly yards of flapping tail and tongue. Erratic markings. Clattery nails. Milk teeth like tack strips for carpet.
That was Spooky, my first puppy.
Meanwhile, my dog-doting father told me a story wherein a villainous tomcat blinded his first puppy. Little sponge that I was, my heart absorbed his fear and lifelong bias.
Three decades later, my eldest daughter was offered a cat.
Now what!?
Interrogate yourself, then discard false assumptions? Shelve your father’s old, embittered story?
Say, Yes?
The things you do for love . . .
. . . go unnoticed as, all too soon, your daughter prefers The Cat for entertainment. Comfort. Heart-to-heart talks.
I longed for the role of comforter and confidante. I wanted to be her good time, all the time.
How does one coax gratitude to emerge—albeit one furry inch at a time?
“Laurie, sit.” (Watch, and enjoy her joy.)
“Laurie, stay.” (This too is a form of power: love overruling the need to be needed, a command I’ve had to learn, over and over.)
Yesterday, my daughter texted me. She’d found a vet who, despite social distancing mandates, would allow her to hold Ellie, cherished feline companion for 14 years, as they eased her into the final sleep.
It’s a holy thing to witness a pet lover’s last full measure of devotion. How I longed to be at my daughter’s side. But that honor rightly passed to a dear friend, the one her children have nicknamed Seashell.
“I’ll watch the kids,” I texted back.
At the clinic, I entered her car armed with books and treats. “Aanie,” my grandson gravely said, “Ellie’s crossing the Rainbow Bridge.”
I did not yet know the famous anonymous words written for grieving pet owners. I thought fast.
“Which color will her paw touch first?”
“Red.”
“And then?”
“Orange. Blue. Purple!”
And there would be clouds where she could play. And take a nap. His mama had told him a story worth holding onto, so different from the one my father had told me. And isn’t this the way bias is overcome, one story, one action, at a time?
Yesterday God showed me, yet again, that sometimes stepping to one side so another can grow and thrive in their own way is vital.
And my daughter showed her child Goodbye is sad, but it can still be beautiful.
We treasure our children. Our pets. “Stay!” our hearts cry.
All too soon, we must relearn “Sit.” And we do, quietly, with our memories. Our sorrow. Acceptance. Eventual gratitude.
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. . . . There are meadows and hills . . . plenty of food, water and sunshine . . . [A]nimals who have been ill or hurt . . . are made whole and strong again . . . happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly, he darts away from the group, flying over the green grass . . . faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you . . . finally meet . . . happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together . . .
—Anonymous
Who might come bounding toward you on that rainbow bridge?
You might also enjoy Crossing the Gap
Or Threshold Times—Yours, Mine—Crossing Safely
Rainbow photo, Marco Forno on Unsplash
Hand and Paw photo by Seashell
Gretchen, is this the leak?
I had to say goodbye to my Lexi last year. I still miss her, but God blessed me with my Jasmine that has helped fill my loneliness and the hole in my heart! Thank you for sharing. I think of you every time I hear or sing I love you Lord!
Pamela, I’m sad to imagine that wrenching farewell. How wonderful that you’ve found consolation with Jasmine. The furry gifts of God are so lifegiving! Blessings on you both!
“Goodbye is sad, but it can still be beautiful.” AMEN! You’ve brought to mind terminal patients I’ve known who were strong as steel in their faith. Such beauty of spirit is manifested when peace reigns within and faces already reflect heaven’s glory! A powerful example I pray to follow.
Nancy, yes. Such a beautiful extension. I respect your prayer mightily. May we both face into the whatever future winds befall us with visible grace.
Nancy, would you be willing to send your email address via the Contact form? I’ve tried 3 times to leave a comment on your latest post and just now tried to email my comment to you but it bounces back.
Critter Ann, Odie, Zero, Eric , Malachi are Over the Rainbow Bridging! I’ve wondered where they are! Now I know.
You are a master storyteller, Laurie. And tucked into your sentences are the deep lessons learned the hard way. Thank you for every entry you post. They enrich , encourage and take me by the hand to a better place.
What memorable names! Cats as well as dogs?
I’m so grateful the storytelling drew you in. And the small, hard-won truths, as well. Where would we be without friends, both animal and human, and the back and forth of stories shared?
One more thing: for as long as I’ve known you, every time I see you dance, your hands and face, limbs and spirit, equally transport me.
And big hugs around Rachel’s neck from me?♥️
I will pass them on. Thanks for your love, Katherine.
Again, my life is made better by your offering dear friend. Hugs around your neck?
Katherine, thank you for your open eyes and mind and heart. YOU make my life richer in so many ways. Hugs back! Wish I knew how to attach a heart from here. Let’s pretend I drew on in lemon juice and a little sunshine will reveal it . . .
Beautiful! A definite “keeper” story – yours and hers! Is that K……..’s cat?
Hugs to you all!
Dear Angela, thank you for those hugs. This was R’s cat. She will be sorely missed.
Sending a cyber hug back!
“…the way bias is overcome, one story, one action at a time….” I can’t tell you how much I respect this. R.E.S.P.E.C.T. So much harder to live it out where it is absolutely unnoticed than to spray words on walls. Your life is our example.
Your words. My neck softening, head bowed. I so want them to be true, over and over, in the everyday details. Stirs up a mighty longing. Long may it reign.
Beautiful Laurie.
Larry, thank you so much for your loyal friendship and support. It’s always a joy to me, seeing your name here, reading your thoughts.
Ah, Laurie, you did it again… zing! Touched me on so many levels… Spoke with my little cat-loving New Yorker yesterday. And here I sit with my memories. Laurie: Speak(s)… I listen. Arf!
Pacia, I’m chuckling over your clever closing image, complete with implied soundtrack. I love it when you riff on a theme. Seems to flow so effortlessly when you do.
It’s not that often for me that the words practically write themselves. This was one of those times. I am so grateful for it, and also that the content proved relevant to real life—and on several levels. Big sigh of gratitude. Thank you.