This past Tuesday (9/15/2009) was the 1oth anniversary of the day on which we let Tabby go. My wife and I left early this morning to make the 60 mile drive to the cemetery where he, along with three of our other personal cats, are buried.
As always, visiting Tabby’s grave brought an incredible rush of memories, happy, as well as painful. Tabby brought such joy to our family for 15 years. He was the perfect combination of the wild and domestic sides of the cat: he was an indoor-outdoor cat and an avid hunter, but he was a gentle lap cat to our family.
Over the years, he quietly wormed his way deep into my heart and turned me into the cat lover I am today.
I also vividly recall the pain upon hearing his terminal diagnosis of cancer and how difficult the next four months were for me. I felt as if I were walking underwater. Common everday activities became inordinately difficult. I didn’t know how I was going to go on without Tabby. Frankly, I often thought that I didn’t want to go on without him.
I was desperate to find a way out of the pain I was suffering. After much soul searching I decided there was no way “out,” only a way that led me deeper “in.” Rather than run from knowing, caring for and, inevitably, losing cats, I would dive in head first. This was the birth of Tabby’s Place.
I will never be the same without Tabby. I miss him every day of my life. Whenever I care for a sick or scared cat at Tabby’s Place, I know that I am also caring for Tabby again. One day I will be with Tabby again. I will pick him up again and hold in my arms. We will be together forever.
Until then, there are lots of cats that need help.