This is the time when I pay what I owe for the years of love and companionship of a beloved pet: Rocket is going to say goodbye soon. I thought it might be going to happen overnight and I didn’t want her to be alone, so I’ve sat up with her. But she is still purring, still able to get up and down to the places in this room that are hers, so I’ll be able to cherish her for a little while longer. It can’t be many hours or days, though.
As we sit here, her purring and cuddling, me trying to focus on how much I love her rather than how much I will miss her, I can’t help but look toward the decisions that are coming: Where will I bury her? How will I dig the grave? Can I do that without infuriating a person who thinks I shouldn’t use my corner of the garden that way? But there is no question about whether or not I will bury her. I have to. I can’t do anything else.
I have a friend who has lost three cats in the time I have known her. She “disposes” of them away from home in some way that I do not know in detail, but she does not bury them. She says she is not sentimental, and once they’re gone, they’re gone. I can’t argue with her … but I also don’t think it’s sentimentality that makes me bury my companion animals.
Anyone who has sat with a just-deceased family member knows that something is missing, that some key component has gone. It’s the same with animals. Some think they don’t have souls. They do. I will accept no argument otherwise.
But the body, even abandoned by the soul, is important, somehow. The body is a huge part of how we experience someone else, whether human or animal. In Rocket’s case, her soft coat is what I can reach over and stroke right now. I can both hear and feel the rhythm and roughness of her purrs. Her body is how I could recognize her grace and strength and power as she jumped and pounced and ran. Much of her beauty – I’ll reserve some of that for her soul – is in her physical body: her colors, the length and thickness of her whiskers, her eyes glowing green or gold depending on mood. Her warmth, the weight of her as she relaxes against me, are purely aspects of her body.
What I love most – what makes her her – is in large part beyond her body. Her attachment to me, her playfulness, her trust, the habit she picked up from CJ of miming the tapping of the treat bucket with her paw whenever she wanted a treat or anything else – all come from that other part, the part that will leave her body when she finally says goodbye.
She’ll have no further use for her body then, but even lifeless the body is important, I’m sure, deserving of respect for what it has meant to both Rocket and me. So I will treat it with respect, putting it where it will not be disturbed, at least for the near term, handling it gently, and feeling the softness of one last stroke before that beloved body is hidden from sight.
We talk about the need for a body being one of the chief reasons for mortality, and the things we can learn with a physical body that would be unknown to us had we remained as unembodied spirits, the duty we have, if we are able, of providing mortal bodies for other spirits still waiting. I don’t pretend to know to what extent all those things are true for a cat like Rocket, and for the myriads of other forms of animal life in this world. But she has a body, and I recognize some of the ways we both have been blessed by her embodiment. And that’s why I will bury her with love and tears and respect, and why I will miss her for the rest of my life.
Beautiful, Ardis. ❤️
I’m so touched. Rocket has been blessed to be with you.
Beautiful. This puts into words feelings I have had about my own pets. Thank you for sharing this.
Life is precious. And now I’ll go find my skinny old girl, all black fur except for the recent sprinkle of single white strands, and pet on her for a while. If it was possible, I would help put your dearie to rest, in peace.
Thank you, Ardis ❤️
Blessings to you, Ardis. And to Rocket.
This really resonated with me: “But the body, even abandoned by the soul, is important, somehow.”
Rocket is still with me, still purring, still insisting (yesterday) that she be allowed to go outside and sniff the last of the growing things (with me right there to protect her if needed). She asked for breakfast early this morning by mimicking tapping the treat bucket, and then she licked a lot of the gravy from the food I gave her. She is not eating enough, though, to keep her going, and every time I wake up and come looking for her, I go through the dread of what I will find.
I need to learn more from her — she is not afraid, she keeps doing what she wants to do despite weakness, and she keeps purring. Life is good, even when it is closing.
Thank you for sharing these precious last moments.
Ardis, a wonderful friend of mine had the loveliest back yard. She planted a Grove of 5 redwoods around the buried cremains of her husband in one corner. She recreated the seacoast of Nova Scotia over the buried cremains of her mother near the back fence. She was a passionate patron of local art and placed an artwork over the resting place of each of her cats. The effect made her yard uplifting and joyous, expressing her experience of her journey with those she loved most, even to visitors who didn’t even know what was underground.
You should take all the time you need to determine how to care for Rocket’s remains in the way you will want to remember until you see her again. Go, girl.
I hardly dare write this, but —
Rocket has had a miraculous turnaround. She hung on day after day, I don’t know how, but for the past two days has been eating like she can’t get enough. It looks like she has decided to stay, and that her tired little body is cooperating for now. I’m no longer afraid that she will slip away while I’m sleeping.
I love her.
Ardis, we have not had a lot of pets due to allergies in our kids. I’m partial to cats, but we have only had dogs. Only one of them seemed bonded to us, and us to her. Her name was muffin, and she was a mix of poodle and miniature collie. Our older kids grew up with her, and she normally slept on the foot of our bed with us.
When she was probably 9 or 10 years old, she developed some problems, and we took her to a vet, who told us it was kidney failure. He offered to put her to sleep there, or we could try dialysis, but even that would only be temporary. We opted to bring her home, put her on a rug in our room, where she slept all night peacefully. She woke up in the morning, wagged her tail weakly, and we all petted her and comforted her until she stopped breathing a few minutes later. She woke up, surrounded by family and love, just to say goodbye. She was buried in our backyard, but we moved from there long ago. We still miss her.
You get it, kevinf.
And I’m relieved and grateful to be able to say that Rocket continues to improve, eating and putting on flesh, and expecting me to hold her all the time because I held her the days and nights I thought she was going to have to leave me.
That is such great news. Happy for the both of you!
Because we have a backhoe and because so many people/friends here in Hyrum have horses, my husband and son have buried many horses. They are always impressed with the love and care that goes into burying those loved animals. In one case, after the hole was dug, the owner spread a thick layer of hay all around in it, then his pet had to be placed just so on the hay before it could be covered up. Another time the horse was wrapped in a nice blanket before placing it in the hole. It doesn’t matter how large or how small a loved pet is, they are still mourned after they are gone. A few years ago our city said it was against the law to bury horses on the owner’s land, garden, or pasture. But no owner wants to call in the city truck to come and throw their pet in the back for disposal.
I’m glad your family has been able to give that service, Maurine. I have no doubt that people’s love for their horses or other large animals is just as real as it is with a cat or dog. Thank you for this.