Everyone who lives with a pet eventually comes face-to-face with the unpleasant task of living without their furry companion. While pets occasionally outlive their owners, normally, it is the other way around. And brother, losing a pet is one of life's harder experiences.
While I am generally a dog person, I do have cats. All rescues, all with different personalities and levels of interaction with me. Little Bitty Kitty was my oldest, and I lost her a few days ago. Sometimes, it feels like she died five seconds ago. Sometimes, it feels as if I've been grieving forever.
The depth of my grief surprised me. I love my cats, don't get me wrong. But cats don't have the emotional tie-in with me that my dogs have, and I always thought I was less attached to them because of this. I was definitely mistaken.
Little Bitty Kitty was a quiet cat. I don't recall ever hearing her meow. When she was hungry, which wasn't often because I keep the food bowl filled, she simply began weaving around my legs for attention.
I'm pretty good about keeping the water bowl filled, too, but sometimes, if I'm busy elsewhere, the water is consumed without my instantaneous knowledge. Little Bitty Kitty, apparently fearing I would not notice the empty bowl, had a solution: she sat in it. Sure enough, it was impossible to walk past without noticing the cat sitting patiently and silently in the middle of the empty bowl. Her method was foolproof while she was alive. Now that she is buried not far from me, the sight of that empty bowl with no cat sitting in it is horribly painful. I miss her. I miss her more than I thought I would.
Grief is grief, just as love is love. You can grieve for or love one being more than another, but it really does not matter what form that being takes, whether human, feline, canine or reptilian. Loss is loss. Anyone who says you cannot love an animal as you love a person has never truly loved an animal. Of course you can love a pet as strongly as you love a human. Many people don't, but I have to wonder if they can't, or simply refuse to allow it. Loving a pet deeply does not in any way diminish whatever love you may have for a human being.
I loved Little Bitty Kitty. I don't have to worry about forgetting her, because every time I look at that water bowl, I think of her. Right now, it makes me cry. Eventually, I will look at the empty bowl and in my memory see her sitting there so quietly, waiting for me to notice and fulfill my duty. And I will smile.
I hope the smile comes soon.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Is there such a thing as coincidence?
A large body of my father's military newspaper work is currently with Professor Emeritus David Egan of Clemson University. The "ComZ Cadence" was a post WWII U.S. Army newspaper in France. My father, Albert W. Spratley, was the editor.
I've had several long, enjoyable conversations with Prof. Egan, who is writing a book on the Cold War era and is using some of Dad's writing in his research.
In the two years since I sent the newspapers to Prof. Egan to be scanned into a permanent digital copy, I never realized who he was. I grew up at Fort Benning and Columbus, GA. My father was Sgt. Major at the Fort Benning Public Affairs Office, and died there Oct. 11, 1968. He never knew about My Lai, but of course, everyone else who lived there did, when Lt. William Calley was court-martialed there. Don't get me started on how I felt about the commuted sentence or about the failure of my country to do a damned thing to the rest of the monsters at My Lai that day. My blood boils every time I hear the name of that doomed Vietnamese hamlet. I've been angry all these years. I met Calley one time, and could barely contain my loathing. I remember, though, being deeply happy when the Solder's Medal was awarded to Hugh Thompson, Lawrence Colburn and posthumously to Glenn Andreotta. It was long overdue.
Turns out, it was Prof. Egan who launched the ultimately successful campaign to award the three true heroes who put a stop to the massacre at My Lai. I was unaware until just now that Prof. Egan did that. I can't wait to talk to him again so I can thank him for this.
I stumbled across a Sixth Estate blog entry about it.
Checking further, I also found something on CNN.
I don't know when I'll get to speak to Prof. Egan again, so I'll say it here:
Thank you.
I've had several long, enjoyable conversations with Prof. Egan, who is writing a book on the Cold War era and is using some of Dad's writing in his research.
In the two years since I sent the newspapers to Prof. Egan to be scanned into a permanent digital copy, I never realized who he was. I grew up at Fort Benning and Columbus, GA. My father was Sgt. Major at the Fort Benning Public Affairs Office, and died there Oct. 11, 1968. He never knew about My Lai, but of course, everyone else who lived there did, when Lt. William Calley was court-martialed there. Don't get me started on how I felt about the commuted sentence or about the failure of my country to do a damned thing to the rest of the monsters at My Lai that day. My blood boils every time I hear the name of that doomed Vietnamese hamlet. I've been angry all these years. I met Calley one time, and could barely contain my loathing. I remember, though, being deeply happy when the Solder's Medal was awarded to Hugh Thompson, Lawrence Colburn and posthumously to Glenn Andreotta. It was long overdue.
Turns out, it was Prof. Egan who launched the ultimately successful campaign to award the three true heroes who put a stop to the massacre at My Lai. I was unaware until just now that Prof. Egan did that. I can't wait to talk to him again so I can thank him for this.
I stumbled across a Sixth Estate blog entry about it.
Checking further, I also found something on CNN.
I don't know when I'll get to speak to Prof. Egan again, so I'll say it here:
Thank you.
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