Bucky, 3y/o Cat Missing Since 4/4/17 Options

[L.I.T]

Our youngest, Bucky, has been missing since last Tuesday. He and his brother Lotto had gone outside around 11am that morning. Lotto came home that afternoon with some scratches on his belly, and a couple of small puncture marks on his rump. Bucky never came home at all. We did find his collar a day later, but no sign of what could have happened. Predator? Neighbor's dog? A fall from one of the cliffs around our house? Bucky was always the daredevil, living on the edge.

In all honesty, we have been flying by the seat of our pants with this little guy since before he was even ours. The day he was to be flown to us, he ate some poisonous flowers, and had to be delayed. When he got here, he ate every piece of toy he could, and promptly had to have his stomach and intestine opened up to have string removed. Then he ate an unknown pill and required an emergency visit to the local pet ER.

Next was a trip outside where he did something to his knee, so we had to take him to the specialty surgeon to have his CCL rebuilt (equivalent of ACL). Later, when it didn't improve, we thought it might have even been his hip.

Bucky was always playful, with a very high pain threshold, and never learned the 'limits' of play fighting, so we spent a year with behavior specialists trying to get him and Lotto to coexist peacefully (the irony was that we got him, a half-brother, so Lotto would have a companion as he got older). All of that, and we ended up shoving them in a room together for a week at which point Lotto finally realized Bucky did not mean to kill him. Even still, they continued to tussle over who would get to sleep by my legs (as Lotto would not share). Finally, there was a fight where the neighbor's cat attacked Bucky - except the neighbor's cat was 9lbs and Buck-a-doo was 20lbs. Bucky defended himself only, but still, we were worried we would have to move.

With Bucky, you just always had to take it day by day.

All of this is moot now. The neighbor cat won't have any interloper, our cats will be more at peace, not always looking to see if Bucky will be attacking/surprising them on the fly. We won't have to worry about moving, nor chasing him to free the chipmunks he caught, etc. In truth, without him, our lives will be more peaceful.

But they will also be more empty, as Bucky was the class clown, chasing lights on the wall, making love to smelly feet, vibrating his tail and hollering through the house, burying food, paddling in the toilet water (if you accidentally left the seat up), climbing every ladder he could get his paws on, or playing hide and seek/leap frog with Lotto.... He was always doing the unexpected, and forever in search of 'fun'. He was not the cuddle-bunny, but always had a head bump ready, and would sometimes jump and wrap his paws around you to remind you that he was there, and wanted your love. The thing is... He had a way of forcing himself into your heart - you just couldn' t help but to love him because he was just genuine Bucky.

Given a choice, I would never have traded him for peace. Losing all the life he brought to this house is as much a shock as his sudden death. It feels like a puzzle where the missing piece ruins the whole dynamic of the game.

I keep looking outside like I will find something - inspiration, comfort, perspective. And all I end up seeing is that he's not there.

I know time will heal, and we will be OK. But the loss of a life so young, and one so full of joy, fun, and mischief... It reaps me to the core. I don't want to have that sliver of hope. I don't want to fall into yet another depression. I don't want to be the sensitive person that I am, seeing his life everywhere in this house, and knowing that it is extinguished. And yet, there will be peace? What irony is wrought from this situation.

So I keep asking the good Lord, what am I to learn? Because all I can think of right now is that a hungry animal apparently needed to live more than my little Bucky. And my heart weeps.

I've written down every memory I have of him - and notes of how much he was loved, etc. And still, putting those memories down on paper has done nothing to me from seeing him in everything I do. My husband wants to wait for total of 3 weeks before grieving. But I can't do that. It's like something in my heart knew Bucky would not be coming home that day - or ever. And now his absence haunts me every moment of every day.

There is guilt. After 4 months inside, we finally let the cats out again. Bucky had too much energy and was tormenting the other two. He was so incredibly happy when we let him out again, his excited tail vibrating every time we were to open the kitty door once the sun was high, and every time he would come in just to touch base. But is quality of life worth giving up quantity of life? Who am I to have made that decision?

My only solace is that if a coyote or bobcat did get him, he would have passed doing his 2 favorite things - being outside, and fighting like a madman. Like I said, he lived life on the edge - the more exhilarating the better.

Thanks for listening to my story - it is like many of yours, the unknown gnawing at our hearts. Turning every time we hear a sound, to see if maybe they came home. Imagining every horrid possibility of what could have happened. All while still going through a grieving process that is littered with slivers of tortuous hope.

My sympathies to everyone on this board, because if you feel the same way I do, you know that no words, no amount of hugs, no suppositions will make this pain go away. And time seems the cruelest of all as we count the days that our furbabies have been gone. Yet we have to go on.