29
September 2013
Dear Monkey,
Our relationship
began on February 14, 2004.
For nearly a decade you have been my feline companion. We’ve no doubt been through a lot
of things together. We’ve
moved three times together, you’ve been there as your other daddy and I decided
it was best to part ways, you’ve been there as I’ve changed jobs and for many
other events along the way.
And, now, as you are in your later years of life, I don’t know how much
time we will have remaining.
There are some things I want you to know.
While our time
together has not always been a bed of roses, I am thankful that you have been a
part of my life. You have
been notorious since almost day one for your “on purposes”…some people might
call them accidents, but I don’t.
I know when you go outside your litter box you are doing it completely
on purpose. More often than
not, I just want you to speak like a human and tell me what the hell is going
on in that little brain of yours.
So, yes, Monkey, I’ve been frustrated at times. But, on the whole, you have been
so loving and so affectionate.
One of my fondest memories of you is the morning after we moved into our
current dwelling. Certainly, you
were scared, and the next morning as I awoke, I found you curled up, in a ball,
underneath the covers with me.
That always makes me smile.
There is also the time before Parker and I parted ways that he was
trying to get you to use the fancy litter box that hooked up to the plumbing
and you were having none of it, and you let him know by climbing on the bed,
backing up, and leaving a steaming pile on him. Well played, kitty, well played.
You have a unique
history about you, one of which I only know bits and pieces as given to me from
the sweet lady in Columbus, GA, from whom Parker and I adopted you. Before your brief stay with her,
you lived in New York City, and were there, across the street in your home,
across the street from the World Trade Center, when those horrific events of
9/11 unfolded. If only you
could talk, what stories you could possibly tell. Your original humans were unable to keep you, so
the sweet lady from Georgia adopted you, and then discovered that she could not
give you the care you deserved.
That’s how Parker and I discovered you, though Parker’s sister’s
soon-to-be sister-in-law, who worked with the lady who put you up for
adoption.
Here’s my
confession: I know I’ve not always
been the best human companion, but know that when I wake up in the morning and
you are there with your gentle love, it makes me happy. I hope that you know of the love
that I’ve attempted to give to you.
And now, as I look over at you, sleeping on the bed, your frail,
emaciated body sleeping peacefully, I wonder what it will be like when you
leave this world. I don’t know if
we have weeks or years left, but as we approach our tenth anniversary together
next Valentine’s Day, I’m thankful for the love we’ve shared. And, when that time comes that
you must surrender to death, go, knowing that I’ve tried to take care of you as
best I possibly can.
Love,
Me
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