heavy petting

An acquaintance at work had to put her dog (her baby!) to sleep, and she was depressed for a couple of weeks. She now lives alone, after having lost her husband years ago and now their sweet dog (and she never had children). A colleague commented on how she didn't understand how someone could be so upset about losing a stupid dog. "I mean really! I'd be sad for a day, but come on," were her exact words. I could actually see why she would think that way. She didn't grow up with pets, and neither did I.

I never knew about the immense attachment that people shared with their pets. My mom is allergic to anything with hair, which is why Dad is bald and my brother and I always had to wear hats. Okay, not all of that is true. She really is quite allergic to cats and dogs though, and I'm allergic to most dogs. So, we only had a few small pet fish when I was little (the 10 cent Wal-Mart fish that lived for 3 months), and I had a little duckling for a couple of weeks. I'll explain that another time...no, we didn't eat it, you sick, sick blog reader.

I didn't have a pet until Clay and I got married and inherited our cat, Mr. B, from our friends, and I instantly learned about that special owner/pet bond. Now, Mr. B is not the friendliest cat to visitors, but he is completely different with Clay and me. It's kind of like how your boy/girlfriend or spouse is different when your friends aren't around. You have your own language and idiosyncrasies that no one else knows about, but they make you love that person even more. Well, Mr. B doesn't cuddle with our visitors, and his meows seem more demanding - almost like he's showing off in front of our friends. "Watch this humanoids...I can make you all pet me in five seconds just by yelling 'MEEEEE-NOW'...imbeciles!" (In my head, Mr. B's voice and accent is that of Stewie from Family Guy.) For those of you who have never met Mr. B, he has the loudest meow I've ever heard, and he loves to talk. When it's just us at home, Mr. B is oftentimes super cuddly or at least has to be in the same room with us. One Saturday, Clay was off somewhere, probably buying secret geek stuff I don't know about. I was cleaning up around the house, and Mr. B followed me from room to room for hours...and I mean from our bedroom upstairs to the downstairs laundry room and back upstairs...over and over.

He just really has such character. We can tell his moods and distinguish between the different sounds he vocalizes. We literally laugh at something he does or "says" every single day - really. I could write a million stories about his crazy antics or even the conversations we've had with each other. He's sooo repetitive!

Anyway, several years ago, it hit me that one day in the near future Mr. B will move on to kitty heaven...he is a teenager after all. I started crying as I thought about it, and I mean bawling and doing the ugly cry where you have tears running down your face to mix with the snot running down your face and your eyes and nose are all scrunched up and your mouth is wide open and well, it just ain't pretty. I have never dealt with death well...who does, really? I'm mostly calm, cool and collected at funerals, but when I'm at home alone I will grieve like you wouldn't believe. I'm crying right now as I write this, because I am a big, fat crier. If you came up to me and asked me to start crying, I could probably do it. I should be an actor on Lifetime television.

So, I dedicate this blog entry to that special acquaintance (who doesn't know about my blog or know what a blog is). But, I can't imagine losing a husband whose dying words were, "Take care of our baby."...And then losing her canine baby, which made her grieve for her husband all over again. My heart goes out to her, and I'll have an ugly cry in her honor.