Leo

I’m all showered and clean now, sitting on the couch.  On the TV there’s some meaningless sports.  The couch is where Leo and I used to hang together.  But he’s not next to me right now.  He’s in the back yard.

A holiday Sunday.  My plans were to watch some soccer with a friend and then to do some fun stuff with the family.  As I was getting up I noticed that our young cat, Nikita, is acting strange.  For one, she is rarely home at this time of the morning.  She usually eats and asks to leave right away.  But here she was, scratching the bedroom door for attention.  She already ate, so what could she want?  She then followed me to the bathroom - another unusual behavior.  But I didn’t give it much thought.  My breakfast was ready and there was a game waiting for me.  As I was taking the first bite I asked Rachel if Leo ate his breakfast yet.  She said she has not seen him all morning.  I glanced through the window to the front yard - - - and I saw him there - - - like you never want to see your cat.  He was dead.  Maybe butchered is a better word to describe what I saw.  Not a pretty sight, to say the least.  

I saw many dead domesticated animals in my lifetime - dogs, cats, horses, goats, and many more.  Most of them I had an emotional bond with.  Each loss was tough.  You never get used to it.  A loss is a loss is a loss.  However, unlike all previous losses, this loss is sort of “nature” doing it’s thing - that is, if you can call coyote living among us and chewing on our pets ‘nature’.  In the early 1990’s we lost our beloved Persian cat, Poly, in a similar way.  He was caught by a few unleashed dogs.  After this “murder” I was so mad I wanted to kill those dogs.  This is no exaggeration.  But being the the lawful citizen that I am and not living on a kibbutz in Israel with a gun, I just had to swallow my anger.  This time I’m not angry.  I’m sad, but the coyotes did what they do naturally.     

And just like that our life got another sudden and unexpected blow.  Leo was one of the family.  We adopted him 11 years ago.  For a long time he was our only cat - until Nikita came along after Liam passed.  Leo enjoyed the status of a lone “child” and all of the sudden there’s this noisy and demanding kitten next to him.  He didn’t like the change.  But with time they learned to love each other.  When I spotted his corpse I finally understood Nikita’s odd behavior.  She tried to to tell me something.  She knew what we dared not dream of.  (Well, to be honest, we knew of the existence of coyotes in the neighborhood.  We chose not to hold the cats indoor - to let them be cats.  For such a long time, despite the repeating warnings, nothing bad happened.  And now this.  Would we have done it any differently?  I don’t know.  Would we keep Nikita indoor now?  Maybe for a short while, but it remains to be seen.)

On Wednesday it’ll be Liam’s 3rd anniversary.  Wednesday is constantly on our mind this weekend.  And now this.  A fresh loss.

As we were spending the very first moments together after discovering Leo, crying, hugging - I was thinking how much hardship Meitav already been through in her short life.  And now this.  Another blow.  And I was thinking how strong, tough, and resilient  we all are, how we understand each other with very few words that have to be spoken.  And I was also thinking about the lesson we all learn:  how to survive anything.

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But now it was time to bury Leo.  First I had to dig a deep, deep hole through the tough, dense Georgia clay.  Now, I’m not an experienced manual laborer.  These days are behind me - at least that’s what I thought.  Now I’m a white collar guy.  On top of that, I have plenty of injuries, aches, etc.  I’m not built for this kind of labor.  But I had a job to do.  It took me over three hours to go three feet down.  I hate this kind of work, but at least it kept me busy both physically and mentally.  This is not the first time I’m doing such of job.  Before Leo came I had to bury his predecessor.  The hardest moment is when you lay the corpse in the hole and start covering it.  You still see the face that you love, the eyes that looked at you just a few hours ago.  And now you cover them with a shovel full of dirt.  You’re forced to move on to the next chapter.  To rely from now on on photos and memories.  

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As tough as the loss is, it comes with a heavy dose of love and the thanks.

• I'm thankful for the fact that I found Leo and nobody else did.
• The love that Leo gave and received.  And thanking him for the good years he gave us.
• The love our family have for each other - and our pets - and the strength we draw from it. `tis something to be thankful for.
• Thanking the fact that Meitav has good friends that support her at this tough time.
  
  

I think I can go on and on, but there’s some meaningless sports on TV that keeps calling me.

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It’s thundering outside.  Leo used to run home when it was thundering, either cuddling with one of us or hiding under the bed.  He is not here now.  He’s in the back yard.  For ever.  Sorry, boy.

(I'm not sure what possesses me to post all this so freshly. Maybe it's my self healing process that kicks in. Get it out. Don't hold it in. Maybe, I don't know.)