It has been two weeks since my beloved kitty, Clyde, crossed Rainbow Bridge. I’ve received warm and sympathetic responses to last week’s column from other pet lovers.
From one reader: “Well said! I also believe our pets will be with us when we cross over.”
Another: “I can never read ‘Rainbow Bridge’ without crying, and your story brought me to tears.”
From a friend: “I hope one day to see all my furry friends again. Keep all those good memories of Clyde.”
From son Matt: “While our animals are only here for a part of our lives, we are here for all of theirs—and we love our furry family members.”
A childhood friend wrote: “I am so sorry for the loss of your beloved Clyde. It is so sad to lose a pet; they are, in fact, family members. I imagine Bonnie is pretty lonely now, poor baby. You wrote a beautiful tribute to your little imp.”
Another reader shared this feeling: “I am so sad that your beloved Clyde is gone. I hope that Bonnie is doing well in his absence. It’s never easy to lose a pet family member.”
During a “therapeutic” phone call, my Cousin Pat asked if Bonnie missed Clyde.
“Ha! You’re kidding! She missed him, actually going from room to room, for all of two days! Similar to a partnership, Clyde was the dominant kitty and Bonnie stayed in the background. Now that he is gone, she has blossomed and has now charted her course to being top cat.”
Bonnie has always been a “chatty kitty.” She has ramped up these conversations and “talks” to me constantly; how I wish I knew what is on her mind. She will curl up wherever I am: In the den, living room; on Easter Sunday she sat under the dining room table—of course she could also have been waiting for some tasty morsels.
Bonnie has always been a lady. At meal times, she eats a small portion of her food and saves the rest for later. However, with Clyde hovering around, she never had a chance to return for her snack; even while he was eating, he eyed her bowl and made a beeline to finish whatever she’d left. Now, she daintily nibbles her food and leaves a portion for later. Imagine her surprise when she returns and it is still there, just where she left it!
I’d experimented a few times letting Bonnie and Clyde sleep on my bed. Terrible idea on my part! After a couple of skirmishes in the middle of the night—hissing, swatting each other and climbing over me—I quickly put the kibosh on that move and shut the door. Post-Clyde, Bonnie has jumped up on the bed a few times—what a difference! She will quietly turn in circles for a few seconds until she finds just the right spot; once she’s settled—I can hear her purr—she curls up and sleeps until the alarm goes off in the morning. Wish my boys had done that when they were babies!
As I write this column, Bonnie is sleeping soundly under my desk. Her little belly is full—a snack is waiting in her bowl—and all is right in her kitty world. I do miss my lovable Clyde very much, but Bonnie has picked up the torch and is marching ahead in ladylike fashion. You go, my feline furry creature!
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