Whenever I read a blog about the death of a beloved pet I feel deeply. Often feeling more deeply than I do when watching the perpetual horror stories in news cycles of tragedies too huge to comprehend. It is a matter of being able to, for the lack of a better word, relate.
But there is another part of me that feels it's just too personal sometimes, too raw.
So for Url the cat who I raised from the tender age of 2 days to 8 short years who died unexpectedly
yesterday and is now buried beneath one of the new apple trees I can only blink back my seemingly endless tears. No kidding, this cat was not a cat but a neurotic clown who gave me more smiles than I can calculate. I held him and made myself watch him as life left his eyes. I admit, without embarrassment, I am bereft.