I was 11. On my dresser was a photo from the first day of school that year. My dog Princess, whom my parents acquired about the same time as I was born, and I stood next to each other on my parents’ front porch. Shortly after, as I looked at that photo, I realized my mortality.
We were about the same age, but she was over 70, in dog years. When I thought of that I was sad, because creatures die when they get so old. But then I thought, one day I would be so old as to die. I said nothing to my parents or friends. No one would have understood.
My cat Delilah has passed away. A friend said today, in paying condolences, he only has known me to have old cats. Ally Oop was 12 (cancer), Irish 13 (congestive heart failure) Bear 20 (old age), Little Bit 21 (older age & my buddy) and now Delilah.
Delilah has had the run of the house since Little Bit passed. When I ran for U.S. House she was in videos. (She never expressed her political beliefs directly, but from her reactions to the former occupant of the Oval Office and her purring at the current Pres & VP, I guessed.)
She has wakened me each morning at shortly before 4. (We worked out an agreeable time.) She was quite shy and it took me two weeks, in 2007, to get her to purr for the first time. I miss her already.
We always miss the ones we love. Each one is special.\I shall grieve, as I have each time one has passed. Then I shall adopt three or four very young shelter/abandoned feline-Americans. I know there are older kitties out there that need homes, but young ones need homes, too. I’ve had my fill of grief for a while.
I cannot guarantee they will live to old age, but on average mine live to 17 (Delilah’s age). I don’t let them outside & only take them to the vet for check-ups or if they’re sick. And Delilah was far more than an average cat. That can be said about all of them.