Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Missing my Pal


I've never had a pal like PurrBall (PB) before. When we lived on the ranch, PB stayed outside in a really nice house that my dad's kids built for him out of an old stereo speaker. They insulated it and roofed it and PB loved it though he'd sneak in as often as he could to hang out inside the house when I was there. But mostly he'd do what he's doing in this picture which is climb up onto my back and sleep. 
     When we left the ranch, my parents decided to have him, uh, neutered and then to let him become an indoor cat. He still had his outdoor house but now he also had a bed inside and a litter box and his special dish that sat on the piano so neither Caesar nor I could get into it. Gosh, we had a good time.  Lots of times he slept in my bed with me.
     About three weeks ago, he didn't come inside one evening. No one thought much of it. It's summer and he has a bed outside, too. But he wasn't there in the morning wanting to get in. He wasn't there in the evening either. Finally, after a couple of days my mom put his picture up around the neighborhood. She asked the neighbors and even met a neighbor she hadn't met before to tell him about PB. She visited humane societies in two towns (we live between them) and hung up posters and put a notice on Craig's list, too. She got a call from Craig's list but the cat the lady found had clipped ears and as you can see, PB's ears are the way they were when he was born, only bigger.
      I miss him.  I sniff the door to his house each time I go in or out. My mom says the scent of something evokes memories (whatever evokes means). I just know that when I sniff there I wish him home. Some have said maybe he just went away to die but he wasn't sick. I would have noticed. There are coyotes around and owls too. Someone else said maybe he traveled the 160 miles back to our ranch but I'm here!  He wouldn't have gone all that way knowing the people and friends who loved him are waiting for him here.  Maybe he wanted an adventure and he'll be back one day. My mom hasn't moved his food bowl off of the piano yet and she hasn't put away his kitty litter box either though she may as well. Without PB there's nothing interesting in that box anyway. My mom says there's an old proverb that says the last thing lost is hope. I'm hoping.
     So the only thing I'd like to say is that if you have a friend you sometimes take for granted, don't. I just wish I could have one more day with my pal; one more day to let him sleep on my back, knead my side, sleep beside me. All I have now is a tiny little scent when I walk by his house. I don't know what RIP means on stones in those green places my mom calls cemeteries (I've gone with her to a couple), but for me it means Remembering is Painful. My mom says that in time, my memories of my friend will nourish and transform. I hope so. I hope they will for you too if you've lost a pal like PB. Until next time when I'm in a happier mood...
    Woof!  Woof!   Bo