I’m sitting here trying to catch up on my feeds. I saw two entries by two different people, whom I consider very dear, which saddened me. Both had each recently lost a furry loved one.
I must have been muttering to myself, because a coworker overhead me and commented on how he couldn’t understand “how people get so attached to animals.” I ignored his comment, but it did hit a nerve. Anyone who knows me even a little knows how much I love animals, and anyone who knows me well knew about Hobie. I was absolutely devastated when she passed away. Here, a year and a half later, I still think of her often and will break down whenever I see something of hers … an old picture, one of her collars, an old toy tucked away somewhere, …
I still catch myself listening for the sound of padded paws on the carpet — she had one claw that always “stuck” so you could hear her coming. Late at night I sometimes sit up in bed and listen, thinking that I heard her pitter-patter across the kitchen floor.
And sometimes, out of the corner of my eye, I still see her — but only for a moment.
She was much more than a mere “pet” to me. She was my childhood companion, my comforter, my friend. She was my little diva, and my angel and devil all wrapped in one. She was more “human” than some people I know. And I still miss her very much.