Leaving A Hole

One year later, on a beautifully clear September morning I stood in his favorite park.  With three hawks flying overhead and Buster sitting by my side, I took a deep breath in and slowly let it out.  I opened my hand and let the breeze carry Casey's ashes over the tall grass clumps on the hill leading down to the beach.  He loved exploring at this park, on this hill covered in vines and toppled tree trunks.  He would investigate under each tuft of grass while making his way down to the shore, touch the water and then race back up the hill to me.  I'd moan and complain about the hours I'd have to spend brushing and cutting the burrs out of his coat, all the while knowing we'd be back here again the next week - because it made him happy.  And Casey made me happy, by loving me unconditionally and by giving his very best to me every day of his life.

How humans deal with the loss of a loved one is what really sets us apart from the animals - especially when it's the loss of a much loved animal.  I grew up with all kinds of pets and animals in my life.  Depending on where we lived and which Aunt & Uncle's farm I spent my summers on I've been exposed to a plethera of them.  There were horses, sheep, dairy cattle, chickens, rabbits, ducks, cats, dogs, parakeets and lovebirds, tanks full of fish and baby alligators - yes, alligators.  Out of this two-by-two exposure to animals while growing up in a family that came from Minnesota and Iowa farm folk I gained my knowledge and respect for the animal that's raised for food.  This means while I can appreciate how cuddly and warm a pet bunny can be, I can also separate that feeling from the multitude of rabbits raised for butchering purposes come fall of each year.  That's food on the table over the winter months, along with the chickens and ducks and...you get the picture. 

There's something different about a pet.  Why?  It's still just an animal, right?  It's still only a barn or hutch or coop or cage away from being an employee of sorts.  There's got to be a dog that herds the cattle and sheep back to the barn and then keeps the fox at bay during the night.  There's got be the cat that keeps the mice out of the the barn and the squirrels from getting into the rabbit food. 

But then there's that special dog or cat.  The one that is allowed to come inside the house - and gets to share in your living space - and instantly settles into that most sacred of all places...your heart.  How this happens is still a mystery to me.  I am always stunned by how of much a treasured family member that furry creature becomes.  In some cases, you end up loving that pet more than some of your shared species family members.  When they pass from our lives we're left with an overwhelming sense of loss - it rivals losing a human member of our family.  The healing process takes time and it's different for everyone, much the same when dealing with the loss of a human family member.  

I miss you Wiggle Butt.  There's still a big hole in my heart where you used to be.