Michelle Perin’s Blog

People have told me “Pets are like our children.” I would have to agree and disagree with this. First, I recognize the love of our fuzzies. I have loved my fuzzies so deeply over the years I’ve thought I would break in two because of the pain I was in when they passed over the Rainbow Bridge. My first real heartbreak came several summers ago when my cat, Shadoe, passed at 14 years of age. Shadoe had been with me since I was 18 years old. He had seen me through a marriage, a divorce (another marriage and divorce…but that’s another story), the birth of both of my sons and several moves. He traveled with me during many of my American adventures. I could get him out of the car at rest stops and he would walk around with me. He didn’t need a leash or a collar. I could call for him and he’d come. He used to drape himself around my neck and just purr and purr while wrapping my hair around his face. He also drooled (that wasn’t so cute but it came with Shadoe so I loved it). In the end, he wasn’t much more than bones and skin. He would still follow me around and sit on the porch with me. He never tried to run away. He knew where his love was. And, I knew where mine was. On the day he died, I just knew it was time. I sat with him all day in my room. We’d lie on the bed and I’d pet him just talking to him. I’d rub my face on his side and on his head. His breathing was labored but the look in his eyes was pure, “I love you so much mommy, but I gotta go.” He died around 3pm in my arms. I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed…ad infinitum. I couldn’t believe my best friend and confidante and darling love was no longer with me. Who would great me at the door? Who would talk to me (although for years he had ceased making any sound when he opened his mouth. He just opened it like he was meowing. He knew I “heard him”. For a while, I was afraid he couldn’t meow anymore, but one day I accidentally stepped on his tail. Never mind)? I missed him so badly after his last breath, I thought my chest would rip open. I couldn’t believe the amount of physical pain my emotional pain was causing me. I was devastated.

He’s now buried under a giant tree on my family’s property where I can always go visit him no matter where I’ve roamed. Since, his passing, I have lost Winter, my beloved first ferret, Gizmo, my beloved foster ferret and Sam, my beloved hospice ferret (he crashed into my heart in only a few days by his simple sweetness and the look of love and appreciation in his eyes as he succumbed to cancer). What has been common in all these losses is the pain I’ve felt. The hurt. The sadness. The emptiness. The love of our fuzzies is like the love of our children. What is different, or why I disagree with the statement, is because I have been blessed with not only having my children for a short amount of time then losing them. Unfortunately, our fuzzies only grace our lives for a short period of time. Anywhere between a few years and a couple decades. God willing, we have our children much longer. We fall in love with fuzzies and lose them to the Rainbow Bridge several times in our lives and that is the difference. But that love is so good and pure. I can’t imagine an afterlife without that type of love. I know when I pass, my path will be overrun with the fuzzies I have loved and that to me will be Heaven.

I post this because a few of those human people I love have recently sent or will soon send their beloved fuzzies over the Rainbow Bridge. God speed dear ones. We will see you again and it will be a wild rumpus