The first was Pee Wee. A fat, yellow tom. I found him as a kitten behind a church one block from our home on Elizabeth Street. I was...9 years old? Maybe 8. I often played at that church; it had a marvelous "tunnel" between a row of bushes and the east wall of the sanctuary, and one day I heard mewing in my secret bush alcove. I scooped the tiny kitty up, and ran all the way home. My next door neighbor, Nancy (who was my exact age) stopped me in her back yard (no fences then), demanding that I give the kitten to her. I refused and ran to our back door, banging to be let in. Mom never refused a cat in her life, so Pee Wee became ours. He was a dear friend to me, listening and purring his replies to many kid sized troubles, and allowing me to wet his fur with tears on many occasions. He was gentle and patient. He grew old and sick, and one day he was lying in the grass beside our house. I sat beside him a long time talking and stroking his fur. I knew he was going away to die; and he did. That was the last time I saw him, and it was sad and hard.
The second was Gracie. Loren and I got Gracie when we had been married 9 months, in June of 1976. She was a darling yellow and white kitten. She lived in the house and was such a good friend. Slept with me when Loren was at the fire station. An unobtrusive cat who would happily sit on your lap if invited, but never one of those pushy, annoying, inyourface cats. When Emily came along, I worried that she might not like the baby, but Gracie was gentle and patient and allowed Emily, then Erin, Ellen, Evan, and eventually Elizabeth to lay their heads on her, pick her up (usually unceremoniously), play with her...all with quiet, friendly cat love. Not long after Emily came along, Gracie was banished to an outside cat life. She accepted this without complaint or the normal dashing-in-the-open-door opportunistic behavior of average cats. Gracie was not an average cat, and I've never loved another more than her. We had to have her euthanized when she was 16 years old. I miss her still.
The third animal I have grieved was Copper. He was a pretty, golden and white lab mix puppy we got as a Christmas present for the kids in.....? Can't remember the year...must have been 1988 or '89. Copper was his own dog. He allowed us to call him ours, but he knew, and we knew, he was really his own dog. With all his willfulness and bad behavior, Copper was a lovable soul and endeared himself to every member of our family. He had a special relationship with Erin. He endured with soulful eyes and nary a whimper circus tricks on the slide and doghouse, hours on the operating table followed by splints and bandages that many dogs would not have born. He loved our family, but his real mission in life was following his nose. And he did. He developed a cough and became mysteriously ill when he was 8 or 9 - December of 1995 or '96. The vet couldn't pinpoint it, but I've always suspected it was related to the tranquilizer gun used on him at the airport the time he ran off with another dog for two weeks. I'll never forget the day we found him lying in the yard, unable to get up. We all took him to the vet, knowing we would say goodbye. So sad. So hard.
Today a fourth animal friend will be added to my list. I have been grieving for Sadie for several days. I've watched her deteriorate steadily for the past several weeks, even months. But for the past 4 days, she has barely been able to move. Her breathing is labored, and I know she is in pain. I feel so bad for her. We have to be the ones to end it. So today we will. The hardest part for me is watching her try so hard to keep doing what she's always done. And that is...be faithful. What a faithful friend she's been. Always so happy to see you, so happy to be with you. Going with you to the barn (hoping for a mouthful of grain), keeping you company while you water, or weed, or plant, accompanying you to the mailbox, or to take out the trash cart. Erin brought her home to us on New Year's Day of the new millennium - a darling Sheltie mix pup. She tossed around the idea of Millie for a name, but settled on Sadie. Erin taught Sadie to sit, shake, and stay, but nobody had to teach Sadie to fetch! Sadie loved going to the barn with Erin and spent many hours watching for stray grain and dodging hooves. Erin was seldom home in those days and got married the next year, so Sadie became Evan's special friend. I can see so clearly in my mind's eye Evan trudging off to the hedgerow with Sadie trotting close behind or running out ahead. She knew the way well, because they went there together so often. I can see her sitting on the edge of the driveway waiting with her scrap of wood while Evan and Zibby played basketball. I can see her trotting gaily beside Elizabeth (who became the Animal Feeder De Facto...thank you, Zibby) out to the barn every day then anxiously guarding her own bowl from Lucy's greedy gaze. I can see Evan throwing a bucket of baseballs for her to fetch, then doing it over again. And again. No dog ever loved fetching more than Sadie, nor was less discriminating about to whom she would bring her ball, or stick, or Frisbee, or wood scrap, or even rock. Faithful, but quirky. She never failed to chase the thunder. Every time it rained, if she was outside, every clap of thunder sent her dashing madly in the direction of the sound barking a serious warning that she was on guard. Funny little dog - good little friend - best dog ever.
So goodbye, Sadie. I love you. I'll miss you more than words can say. You're a good girl.
