“And if I only could… I’d be running up that hill…with no problems…” – Kate Bush
This is going to be a sad post. I’ve put it off for the last couple weeks, because no matter what, it will make me sad, and I’m already sad. For those of you who have been around this little corner of the blogisphere for a while, you’ll be familiar with the furry love featured above. His name is Toby, and for the last decade and a half, he has been my muse, my companion, our family mascot, and, in the way of all pets, an occasional pain in the ass. He slept with us (stole our body heat), rubbed up against us (begged) for food, got up on forbidden surfaces, left extra hair every and absolutely anywhere it was possible to shed. He braved the cold of coming winter and the wet of new summer rains, to wander his territory and assert his dominance over the squirrels and small birds. He meowed too loudly in the middle of the night, and barged through doors that weren’t shut tight. We would never have been without him.
Except, now, we are without him. Toby passed away on May 3rd, 2022, with a bit of a whine of indignation (he always hated getting shots), and then a last gasp of relaxation into my arms. He was over 18 years old, which is quite an achievement for any domestic feline. He made good use of his time here, hunting, jumping, climbing, loving (and being loved on), sleeping, eating, more sleeping, and watching Netflix with me.
The last several months, he’d been steadily declining. Jumping was harder. Running was harder. Dry food lost its appeal. He couldn’t always remember what he came into a room for.
I knew we’d one day reach the gate to the rainbow bridge, a place I couldn’t follow him. I had to let him cross when he was too old, too in pain, too ready to rest, without us.
And so, on May 3rd, Starclan received its latest Warrior, a fine hunter, the victor of many battles. He’ll always know where to find the plumpest finches, how to cross the widest streams, the best positions for stretching out in sun spots to maximize ultraviolet soakage. He’ll be able to jump and climb the tallest trees, bound across meadows without stopping, and never again forget the name of that minor character in The Vampire Diaries.
He’s still with us, in a sense, always just out of the corner of my eye down the hall, or just flitting off at the edge of the patio. He’s not here, but he isn’t gone.
I love you, Toby, forever and ever, my furbaby. Be at peace, child.