The Grieving Room - KittenLittle

This is a diary I am writing on the first anniversary of the death of my dear cat, KittenLittle, whom I called ‘Kitty.’ She was with me through thick and thin for 20 very full years. She watched me grow up in so many ways, and she helped me grow up in so many more. She was there for me rain or shine, if I was happy, if I was sad, if I had time for her and if I did not. There were no ‘strings’ on her love and company, there were no conditions. She had no hidden agenda, she never sought to punish or manipulate. She loved. She loved completely, totally, consistently, without expectation, without compromise, without anything being held in reserve. She loved me on the surface, she loved me deep down. She loved me in her sleep, she loved me when she was at play. And she was there ... always, always, for me to love right back.

I diaried about her before, last year at this time. You are welcome to look at that diary, if you like. It was based on the idea, highlighted by the Vance Gilbert song, Unfamiliar Moon, that everything changes when a loved one dies. The earth tilts on its axis, at least a little bit. Even the moon is not as it was, everything requires adjustment, adaptation. That’s how it was for me, and how it is now, when I experience great loss.

I take grief seriously. It is something I have to go through to honor the loved one, to respect the place the loved one holds in my life and my heart. I do intend to go through it. I know some get ‘stuck’ in a state of grief. I am not trying to criticize that, but I think our loved ones - without exception if they wish for the best for us - WANT us to go through the grief process, and they want us to get on with our lives, happily, successfully, joyfully. That is a commission they lay upon us, as I see it. But going through the grief is a big part of fulfilling that sacred commission, and is the first requisite for moving on.

I remember reading one or more comments around the time of Tim Russert’s death (I have not saved links) which suggested that it was not possible to truly ‘grieve’ an individual one did not personally know. Of course, everyone in a grief forum knows how mistaken that is. That I did not know someone in person certainly does not mean I cannot grieve for them. I grieved deeply for Princess Diana. I grieved for Dana Reeve. Just about any account of someone who loses a pet can jump-start my grief engine. I have no particular feeling for Martha Stewart (whom I do not know), but I felt for her when she lost her beloved dog, Paw Paw. I know many who visit the incredible IGTNT diaries have grieved for those they have read about, and/or the families of those troops. I believe without reservation in the honest of the experience those people have, even if they have not personally met the troops about whom the diaries are written.

As for our non-human companions, Cesar Millan (the Dog Whisperer) often talks about dogs to try to get his clients to understand they have to view their dogs as animal, first, then species, then breed, then name. By that he means they are animals before they are dogs, they are dogs before they are Rottweilers or chihuahuas or collies, they are those breeds before they are the ‘names’ by which their ‘owners’ know them.

The same is true for us, in that we’re still animals before we’re homo sapiens. Are we ‘above’ the animals? In many respects I would say no. They don’t look down on us because we’re a different species. They’re not superior, haughty, ingratiating, deferential. Neither are they subservient by nature. We can’t say that about our fellow human beings, at least, not all of them. Animals have an astonishing natural dignity that isn’t compromised by ego and pettiness. I don’t mean they are totally devoid of aspects we may interpret as being egotistical. Our species is unique in the world in our ability to anthropomorphize. We even do it with inanimate objects, oftentimes. A famous actor recently did a movie co-starring an emoting volleyball.

Our beloved pets have no such prejudices, preconceptions or conceits. They take us for what we are, honestly, clearly. That is a special gift, and one which shows how much we can learn from them. They’d never be fooled by politicians with suspicious agendas, because they read energy, they read actions. You can be as silver-tongued as you wish, you can have Karl Rove pulling your puppet strings, and still you wouldn’t be able to fool animals. Animals aren’t invested in being fooled for political advantage, they don’t stack the deck internally to favor one conclusion over another. They just live their lives, take care of their business, and be true to themselves and all those around them.

They are not human, but that’s fine with them.

Kitty wasn’t human, either, but she never felt inferior for not being so. She was a cat, but she never lorded that over me. It wasn’t my fault that I was not Cat. In some ways, I was Cat, and, where I had the ability to follow, she taught me more about being feline. She had the finest dignity, and she projected an honorability our species could learn from. There is a brilliance in the simplicity of these beings, in the cohesiveness and consistency of their world view.

We know, intellectually, that they are animals, cats, dogs, whatever the species. Our hearts don’t know that, however. Our hearts just know the depth and breadth of the love they inspire, of the love they give. Our hearts are not prejudiced. Love is love to our hearts, species irrelevant. And, when they have to leave us, it hurts at least as intensely and as deeply as it does when a human loved one leaves us. The grief must not be underestimated! Because, within, we’re the same. We are living beings capable of great love, sharing great history.

A closing note to my Kitty:

Bless you, my dear little cat. My heart is as full of love for you now as it was a year ago. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing your life with me. And thank you for teaching me how to love without measure.

Until we meet again.
  Love,
      Ben

Thank you for reading.

Here is some more information about The Grieving Room, the series.

A special welcome to anyone who is new to The Grieving Room.  We meet every Monday evening.  Whether your loss is recent or many years ago, whether you have lost a person or a pet, or even if the person you are "mourning" is still alive ("pre-grief" can be a very lonely and confusing time) you can come to this diary and process your grieving in whatever way works for you.  Share whatever you need to share.  We can't solve each other's problems, but we can be a sounding board and a place of connection.

All previous editions may be found here. Best wishes to you and your families, even the non-human members of those families!