In Memorium

I celebrate all the creatures that have come under my care, filled me with their joyful spirit and then passed on. In the last two years, the list has increased to an unfortunate number.

Haiku is the most recent loss. He was my birthday gift seven years ago, purchased at Jim's Pet Depot and hand-selected because of his ebullient, sociable nature.

A week before Haiku died, I found the seven perfectly-evolved bodies of the three-week young dwarf hamsters. Sport, their momma, was in the nest with four of her litter, either denying their death or hoping to revive them. Three others were found at various spots in their cage. The eighth, a runt, had died and was cannibalized by his siblings a week before.

During my first Antioch residency two summers ago, I lost Orange Kittie. As events later proved, the man in the house behind me was trapping all cats in the area and having them picked up and disposed of by Animal Control. Beautiful, placid, yellow-eyed Orange Kittie made the mistake of wandering into his yard and pursuing the scent of the bait. She was a wonderful companion, who loved luxuriant naps from the roof overhang and who learned to look-not touch her new friends, Tanka and Haiku. She was a kind listener and a soft mold of warmness in my arms.

The next summer, I lost Manx. This was heartbreak multiplied into infinitum.Once again, the neighbor appears as the culprit. Though the knowledge came much too late for me to recover my darling Manx.

Manx was a Winn Dixie giveaway cat. The moment I held her, she was mine. A true calico and a true short-tailed manx, she was my delight, upstaging all the other animals in my devotion. She melted in my arms, graced me with exuberance and curiosity and hypnotized me with her perfect beauty.

Manx was a flurry of play, a boldness of color with eyes brighter than glass and a face that simply twanged my heart strings. I loved Manx. I still love her and believe her spirit remains alive. I wish to believe her little body is romping in a wide-open, sun-filled play ground.


So many more...

I realize that accepting the care of animals is a responsibility of life-sized proportion. All these lives require more than supplying the basics of food, shelter, warmth. There's seeing the slight change in coat or a lassitude or just a difference in temperament that may imply illness. That's a responsibility that relies on intuition and awareness. And although my animals do speak to me, I have to be listening. And every critter that comes into my shelter also nests in my heart. There's no way to measure the aftermath when that love is gone. But it is there.