I just finish bawling my eyes out over a blog post that someone had written about losing their sweet dog of 14 years. But why??
I have loved cats my entire life! Their dramatic independence, their flair, cleanliness, and prissy diva airs. Dogs just drool and smell bad…right? I’m a cat person for heaven’s sake! (aren’t I?)
Loved my Rainbow Puff and her chubby, loyal self. With her carpet-bag coat, and quiet way. Her nickname of “Bone-zee” that my father gave her, and how she loved to sleep under the covers. She lived to be 21 years old. May she RIP.
Loved my Sweet Pickles – a typical looking tabby with a personality the size of Texas…how she would “answer” the phone when it would ring by knocking it off its cradle, how she loved classical music, and would lay happily right in front of the speakers whenever it was playing, how she would always sleep on my bum through the night, and lick my face (sometimes my eyes…eeew!) to wake me up in the morning.
Loved my Winterberry and her gorgeous long silky coat with whiskers that went on for miles. Loved how shy she was and that she only ever really preferred my husband and I.
Love my Autumn Joy – the current gray calico queen of our domain and snobby-puss of the century. Love how she only sleeps on my side of the bed, and how she can tell the difference between my opening a can of tuna and a can of pineapples from 3 rooms away!
So now, after such a long faithful history to the feline kingdom, how is it that I find myself sitting here surrounded by two cotton ball-headed pooches weeping my eyes out over a story of a lifetime of canine loyalty that has come to an end?
Chesterly is snuggling close and tenderly licking my arm in comfort and consolation while I have my cry.
World: I think I have become a dog person.