Forever loved: Into the grey
It’s been said that it’s harder to make people laugh than to make them cry. Lady Grey and Babs deserve high honors for having made us do both.
It’s been said that it’s harder to make people laugh than to make them cry. Lady Grey and Babs deserve high honors for having made us do both.
I intended this to be a happy-clappy post about adopted Tabby’s Place veterans. I anticipated making cracks about Doritos-flavored Mountain Dew and Oreo Churros. But once again, we’re betwixt and between the quick and the dead. Grizzled, glorious Sylvia has left this earth.
Editor’s note: Yesterday morning, Tabby’s Place was rocked by the passing of longtime resident Beatrice. Volunteer Larry, who perennially referred to Beatrice in his Texas drawl as “mah sweetheart,” was so kind as to pen the following tribute.
The world is a little less weird today, a little less explosive, a little less giddy and grand. We’ve lost the phenomenon known as Hootz.
There is no good way to lose a cat. Preparation doesn’t make us prepared. Sudden loss doesn’t spare us long grief. There is no good way.
Winnie the Pooh said it best: “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”
There is something artificial about setting aside one particular day to remember. Artificial, yes. But also merciful.
We debate the following to no end at Tabby’s Place: Is it easier to say goodbye when we’ve had a long time to prepare? Or does the suddenness of loss spare us a searing season of grief?
The following comes with gracious permission from Gigi‘s adopter, Dave. I could not possibly add to the power of his words, so I gratefully reprint them here in full.
I very nearly titled this post, “Cat knows not her time.” On second thought, however, perhaps she does.