One of our outside cats was run over yesterday. We bring them in at night, but occasionally they don't show up and spend all night out. So we were hoping...
They were brother and sister, and she was a particularly sweet cat. My hubby was very attached to her, and he took her death hard. I grieved, too, but at least some of my emotions were feeling so bad for him.
We still have the brother, whom we brought in early last night. There were threats of coming storms, and that was a good excuse, I guess, to have him close for the night. And we have an inside cat, but she's more my cat than his. The one we buried was definitely his cat. I'm tearing up now, trying to write about it.
But she deserves more than just to be buried and forgotten. So I write. And as I write I remember all the pets over the years that have been so very important to me and to us. I remember my childhood dog, the one I grew up with. And I remember the dog I brought home from the pound that got much bigger than we had expected, but my parents let me keep him anyway, but outside.
I remember the wonderful outside dog we had when our children were little. He was even mentioned in a sermon at church one time, he was such an example of protective loyalty toward our children. And I remember the Doberman we had, the pick of the litter. We had him professionally trained, and he was a great dog. Sadly, I was the one who had to finally take him to the Vet to be put down, due to hip dysplasia.
I remember the countless outside kitties that have been killed on that awful road, too many of them to even remember all their names. But this is one outside cat that I know we will never forget.
To Pepper, with love.