Theo's Home

Hey folks

I just got back from the vet after bringing Theo home on my bike. Thought he might like a bike-ride. You know, in this moment, it feels OK. I feel good about him being here. I got up the guts to look at his ashes, I mean really look at them in the bag. It's sand with very minute bone fragments, almost like broken shells. I feel like I understand a little better the circle of life. Theo's gone back to the most basic elements. When I put him in the earth, he will become part of the soil and part of the trees and flowers that are nearby. This thought is comforting to me. Maybe I'm in shock. Maybe the reality of his being gone will really hit again. But for now, his little bag of ashes is sitting on his favorite blanket which used to be my dad's favorite blanket that I made him, and I feel peaceful about this for the first time.

Luna

I'm Miss My Boy So Much!

I got the call the other day from the vet. They have a special package waiting for me. It's Theo's ashes. I could have got them on Friday but decided not to bring them home until Tuesday, after our Canadian Thanksgiving weekend. I didn't want to lose the weekend to intense grief. Well guess what? It's happening anyway. How can I go get that little box that's Theo? And yet, I have to get it, get him. I miss him so much it hurts. It does all seem so final now and I have to learn to live without him in my life. This sucks!!

Luna

Grief And More Grief

I lost Theodore, my 13 year old cat on Wednesday night. he was put to sleep about 5:15 pm. Like so many folks in the same boat, my heart is broken and I miss him so much. I can't stop crying or thinking about him. It's awful. He had chronice renal failure, a common plight of older cats. He was only diagnosed 6 weeks ago and during that time, we were working hard to get him well. I won't go into the details, but even with all the typical kidney disease interventions, he declined and I had to make the decision to let him go.

My dad died 6 weeks ago and my grandmother 5 weeks ago. I expected my little Theo to be there for me like he always has. I was counting on him to help me get through the grief and now it turns out I'm grieving for him. It feels all like to much grief. My older female cat Emily is wandering around the house looking for him. She cries for him and it breaks my heart. I've explained to her that Theo is gone and is not coming back. I toldl her that we loved him but that he was suffering and had to go. I told her that I love her and that we will have a nice life together in time. I let her sniff Theo's collar and she knows he's gone.

Yesterday a woman I know gave me a Calla Lily plant. I decided that I would make a special garden in my yard to honor Theo. It will be called the "Theodore Garden". It's a lovely, cozy spot, with trees and flowers that looks out to the ocean. I'm going to mosaic a paving stone with Theo's name on it and it will lay over the spot where I'll put his urn. There'll be a little bench made out of driftwood, big enough for two people where I can go by myself or with friends to reflect on my special friend. It will be lovely. And the process of making this spot I feel has been healing.

But it's still hard. It's getting late and soon I will go to bed and he won't be there. I'll wake up in the morning and his funny little face won't greet me. My life seems sad now. Lonely. But I guess the operative word is "now". I know it won't always be so hard. I know this because before Wednesday when Theo was put to sleep, I'd grieved my dad for over 5 weeks and I felt myself starting to lift out of the profound incapacitating grief that his death had caused. There was hope. Theo's passing plunged me back in. Maybe the grief is more intense because of dad and grandma, but I really think my sadness for Theo is for him alone.

Theo was a little kitten that chose me in March of 1992 when I was living in Nelson, British Columbia. He was a black cat with white tuxedo and face. He was part manx and was one of the litter that had a full tail. He had a lovely personality and loved people. People loved him. He was always nearby or in the center of the group. Every picture I have around the house, Theo took the photo op. He slept at the foot of my bed for 13 years. He was a great hunter in earlier years and enjoyed ventures in the garden. He and I were close. We depended on each other to always be there, to always come back from our adventures. We had a special understanding between us. The night before he died, I told him that whatever happened, I would not make him suffer. The next morning, I took him for a walk in my arms around the yard so he could feel the sun and hear the birds, just in case he didn't come back from the vet. He didn't come back, but next week he's coming home to that place in the garden.

Joy