This is Different

I have grieved, as best I could, for the loss of my mother, my stepdad, and my older brother. I kept something inside, holding back. I don’t know what, but something I wasn’t able to reach fully.

Our cat Sketch died this morning. He was about sixteen years old. This time, the grief was immediate and open, so much more open. All of the love came out.

I believe this is because animals love fully and openly, unconditionally. They don’t hold anything back. They simply love us. Because I loved Sketch the same way he loved us, I can mourn more fully his passing.

Probably everybody says this about their animals, but Sketch truly was a sweet and gentle soul. He was quiet and shy. He loved Sandy, who got him and Sister when they were just s few weeks old, more than anything. His complete devotion and trust with Sandy was a beautiful thing to witness. Maybe it was because she has a matching sweetness of spirit. But I never saw such a strong bond and connection between human and animal as between those two. Sketch would let Sandy do anything to him, brush him, clip his nails, clean open wounds, anything, without a sound. He just looked at her with so much love and trust.

Only in the past year or so did Sketch finally start to sit in my lap for petting and attention. I was worried about intruding upon the special relationship he had with Sandy. But he came to love me as a second to her, even nursing on my shirt sometimes like he did with Sandy.

Sketch was a big boy, a Maine Coon, and he looked regal as any lion. He was our sweet, sweet boy. That loving, gentle soul was loved as no other animal ever was. Sketch truly led a protected and a wonderful life. I can get out all my grief, and mourn him, and remember that trusting, loving soul certainly received all the love and care we poor humans can give.