The Best Relationships are Earned
Image by Jean MacDougall-Tattan
Animals are honest. That’s what I love most about them. No hidden agendas. No ulterior motives—except for a cookie or two. And no false promises. What they offer us, if treated well, is lots of love. Unconditional love, really. Even when we arrive home late, they greet us with wagging tails, licks, and purrs. They are a part of our lives, but we are their entire world. They rely on us for everything, yet even in that state of vulnerability, they give us everything they’ve got. Willingly. Without judgment. Without hesitation. How great would life be if people were the same?
Saying goodbye is heartbreaking.
This week, I said goodbye to a cat that owned a large part of my world. I adopted him from a shelter almost ten years ago. He came with the name Boba, which I kept after our son, a Star Wars fan, explained that it was too badass to change. I didn’t know until I brought Boba to the vet for his first checkup that he had a heart murmur, and learned that a good percentage of kittens with murmurs go on to develop cardiomyopathy by the age of three That was frightening, but that little guy was never going back to the shelter, so I braced myself for what was ahead, hoping that a cat named after the legendary Star Wars bounty hunter, would have the ability to stay strong.
Cherish each day.
Boba never developed cardiomyopathy, but he fainted while running around with our daughter’s cat, and a thorough cardiology exam revealed that he had a congenital heart defect. I hoped he would live a full life, but in the back of my mind, I was aware that our time could be short, so I cherished every day we had together. I told him I loved him dozens of times each day. Greeted him every single time he walked into the room. Fed him high-quality food four times a day, and added supplements to keep him as healthy as possible.
His body did a good job of compensating for the defect until a couple of years ago, when ultrasounds revealed physical changes that required medication. Thank goodness for pet health insurance, which paid for all of his care, including biannual ultrasounds with his cardiologist, blood tests, and medications.
Boba lived life on his terms
Boba never lost that skittish nature that a lot of shelter cats develop. Over the years, his nervousness diminished. He let me pet him. He slept beside me every night. In the living room, he sat on the arm of my chair or slept on the back of the chair, purring into my ear. He looked at me with love, rubbed against me and purred, but he hated to be picked up, feared being constrained, and though he sometimes stared longingly at my lap, he never sat on it. It was frustrating to live by his rules, but those were the boundaries he set, and I respected them. I worked every single day, with love and kindness, to earn Boba’s trust and affection. He made me work hard for it, but I did it willingly, without judgment, and without hesitation. I accepted and loved Boba for who he was.
Pets generally live shorter lives than us.
They are our family for a short time, but we are their family for their entire lives. My heart aches, but I would do it all over again, with every one of his rules intact. We had one heck of a journey together. My life is richer in every way because of him. And I pray that we will someday see each other again.
Until next time,
Jean
AKA The Strategic Chicken - Making life’s journey one strategic step at a time.
