Dear K,
I understand the pain of your loss.
The hurt in my heart was so bad when I lost Tardy I didn't know that it could ever be
healed. That ache, like your beating heart has been ripped from your chest. That
loneliness and emptiness that used to be filled with headbutts and whisker kisses. But my
heart has healed. It was Tardy who helped me find a way to get past the pain, and to open
up my heart again. And I found that even more love can come from the deepest loss. 
I got Tardy when he was 6 weeks old, and I lost him when he was 19 1/2 years. He was an
only cat, and he had been with me through a bad marriage, several moves, several jobs,
several boyfriends and finally 10 years with my new husband. He taught Alan, this man
who had never had a pet, how to love cats. Tardy was my baby, dependent and trusting. He
understood my moods. We could read each other's thoughts. Even Alan used to comment
on it. I didn't have any human children, but Tardy was as close to me as if he were one.
When he was first diagnosed with cancer, I went into denial, but as his strength failed, I
tried somehow to come to grips with what my life would be like after he was gone. I found
myself living those last few months in slow motion, registering every good day on my
brain and thanking God for one more moment of joy and peace with him. Those images of
him sitting in the sunlight, or pulling himself up onto a favorite chair or the steps we built for him out of suitcases and cat food case boxes are the most vivid.
I worried most about how to let him go. How to let go of my own need to keep him with
me. My own fear of losing him. What would my life be without him, sleeping curled up
with me at night? God was merciful and took him without my having to make that
decision. But He took him from us without closure, recovering from surgery while trying to
remove the tumor that was hemorrhaging.
Alan & I had talked in those last few months about what to do after he was gone. We had
decided to adopt 2 cats instead of just one, because in his later years I had begun to feel
like I had really denied Tardy a friend to play cat games and talk cat secrets to.
We lost Tardy on Saturday around noon. We both cried all afternoon and evening. I
picked up all his dishes and things and threw them away. My anguish was so deep, a
black pit that gaped in my heart. I kept the rug he used to sleep on, and a couple of toys.
I put them away in a safe place where they lie still. But I tore through the house throwing
everything else out. It just hurt so much to see those painful reminders. I cried myself
asleep. The place were he slept was so empty. I cry even now as I write these words. The
pain lessens with time, but missing him never ends.
By Sunday, I was exhausted, and the house was so lonely. I really wanted to go to a
shelter, but Alan wasn't ready. It took me a couple of hours to get him to admit to me that
he thought it was somehow disrespectful not to allow some time to grieve. He also told
me that because Tardy had died at the hospital, post surgery, he really didn't feel like he was gone. I got
him to call our vet and talk to him. He cried on the phone talking it through with him. He
finally believed that Tardy was gone. I begged him again to go to the shelter. I couldn't
stand this empty house. I was looking for Tardy around every corner, listening for his
footsteps and his little chatter. I knew in the deepest part of my heart that Tardy was
driving me to do this. That this wasn't disrespectful, but that he wanted us to turn our love
back out towards someone who really needed a home and someone to love them.
We finally went. I didn't want to adopt kittens because I knew that they were easy to
place. We asked to see the room with all the older cats, the ones that were harder to
place. We sat on the floor in that room and we waited. They somehow managed to find us.
Zeke came rubbing up against Alan's leg. Tally came trotting out from a kitty condo and
plunked himself down in my lap. We picked out 2 and then 3 and then when Alan left to
go back home to get the check book I saw Boots. Boots was 7, going on 8, and had been
taken to the shelter 2 years earlier by a landlord who rescued him from an abusive tenant. He was a
Maine Coon, but he only weighed 7 lbs. His chin was covered with acne from stress, his
fur was brittle and dull. The shelter told us he would require long term medical care
including teeth cleaning every 3 months. He was too expensive and too much trouble for
most people who wanted a pet. They considered him to be a "lifer".
I couldn't leave him there, so the day after Tardy died, we went home with 4 cats - Boots,
Donovan, Tally and Zeke, who was a rehabilitated feral. The shelter had also warned us
that Zeke was also difficult to place, and had been returned to the shelter from 2 prior
adoptions because he wouldn't come out from hiding.
We got Gizmo a week later from someone at work. And we got Kenya 6 months later
when we went back to the shelter to give them some pictures and a donation. She was the
only kitten we adopted. She was 3 months old. Sammy was the last. A stray who showed
up one day on our doorstep about a year ago.
So now we have 7 cats. All older adults, except Kenya. And 2 with special needs - Boots
and Zeke. We've had the original 5 now for 2 years.
Zeke is now out and about the house, still skittish, but the most grateful, gentle cat you
would ever want. Earning his trust has been one of the most rewarding things I've ever
experienced. I remember the day I was lying on the floor talking to him as we had done
for months, and all of a sudden his face peered out, he hesitated and then he pulled
himself out and started rubbing against my leg with the biggest purrs you've ever heard! I
cried my eyes out. Now we have a routine. He waits until he hears me light the candles
and turn on the TV at night, and then he comes running down the hall and jumps in my
lap.
Boots weighs almost 13 pounds now, his coat is beautiful and glossy, the acne is gone and
his teeth are doing much better. He's on daily medication, and quarterly teeth cleaning,
but he has become a totally different cat. The shelter has his "before and after" pictures
up on their bulletin board. They are as proud of him as we are.
I don't know if I would call this story amazing or just plain dumb. Looking back on it,
getting the 5 cats within a week, and 7 within the year was nuts. But I will tell you that
these little souls have closed the hole that Tardy left. They will never replace him. They
will never be like him, with his same habits and special quirks. But they all have their own
little habits, and I'm getting to be as familiar with their individual language as I was with
Tardy's. I know without a doubt in my mind that Tardy picked out every single one of
them himself. I know he sent Sammy to our house. And know he is still here with me
checking up on "his" adoptions.
It has helped the pain of missing Tardy to turn my love outward to these special cats. Its
sad, but true, that most cats are difficult to adopt out once they get to be past the 6 month
stage. But my experience with adopting older cats has been that they are by far the most
rewarding to take in. It is so incredibly fulfilling to take the ones no one else wants and to
see them flourish with a little bit of love. They are so grateful. These are the ones who
truly understand how special it is to have someone love them.
I know how deep your grief is. You alone are the only one who can determine when, and
if, you are ready to try again. Especially when you have lost one so young. You may feel
it is disrespectful to rush right out and get another cat. I'm sure many were shocked to
hear we got 4 the day after losing Tardy. But each person is different, and each must
listen to what their own heart tells them. I can only tell you that my conclusion regarding
my own experience has been that there are those of us who have to give our love away.
And there are souls out there who desperately need it. Especially older ones who have
been abused, abandoned, neglected. Who have never known what its like to sit in a
humans lap and be brushed and fussed over, who don't understand how to play with toys,
who don't know how intoxicating catnip is. They don't understand what its like to always have
food so they never go hungry, or a warm dry place to sleep every
night. They don't have someone to worry about their health and protect them from things
that are hurtful. When you are ready to give away your love, please consider the ones
like these who need the love of someone very special. Someone just like you.
Written for Kim and her beloved rainbow Coco. Coco has since sent her mom Angel to be as loved
and cherished as she was.
Tally
3/08/98
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