Different kind of love

So I just watched "Marley & Me" and after wiping away my blubbery mess of tears, I reflected on all my pets in my past.

I've had pets all my life.  At the beginning of my life was dark tabby Hoppy the cat. He had 3 legs, and hence hopped everywhere. I used to love to hear my mom tell the story of how she and my dad found him caught in a trap in the barn. He lost one of his back legs to that trap, but it didn't slow him down, in fact, I think he moved faster without it! He was a tough kitty.  He endured me and my sister, my cousins, and the neighbor kids roughing him up and throwing him around.  He never seemed to mind, and he never bared his teeth at us or nipped at us.  He will always hold a special place in my heart. :*}


Then there was Penny the Siamese kitty.  She was a stray that happened to find her way to our house.  She was very pleasant and oh so pretty too.  She had a batch of twin grey kittens not long after.  She stayed around for years, then she just wasn't there anymore. 


Lacy the big fluffy white dog.  She was a gift from my daddy when I was 10 and broke my arm at school.  He got her for me to make me feel better.  I remember holding onto her so tight and she seemed like a big fuzzy pillow. You could get lost in her fur.  She was also very ADHD.  If we left for very long, she found things to chew up.  She chewed up a couple of blankets. She'd pull the clothes off the clothesline.  The last straw for my parents was when she chewed up my little sister's new ball glove.  My dad found a new home for her with some friends of ours where she could have a huge fenced in back yard to run off that energy.  


When my cousin's Calico cat had kittens I got to pick one out for myself.  There were two little boy kittens that were near identical, except one was light grey and white and the other was dark grey and white.  I took the light grey/white one and name him Boston.  My cousin kept the darker twin and named him Denver. :)  He was a great cat.  It was like he was a reincarnate of Hoppy (only with all his legs).  He was very mild-mannered, great with all children; always just "there".  When I was 12 we moved about 5 miles down across to another county, and brought him with us.  We kept him in our basement so he could get used to the new environment. The indoors threw him off a bit, as he was an outdoors feline.  This only lasted a couple of weeks before he got restless and crawled out of a basement window.  We never did find him.  My Papu even joined in on the search, but still no Boston to be found.  Many months, even a year later (I can't quite recall which), someone said they had seen a cat that looked identical to Boston at our old house.  We think he must have gotten "homesick" and found his way back.  I have heard that that happens sometimes.  


As a way to ease my sadness with "losing" Boston, some friends of ours, the Dippers, offered first pick out of their newest batch of kittens.  One evening my dad took me over to look at them.  Elvis was the name of the daddy of the litter.  Kind of humourous, really. ;)  I found one, a cute little black and white female kitten.  I didn't name her right away...you have to be sure about these sort of things.  So we took her home and let her become accustomed to her new home.  She immediately took up and hid behind the sofa. She was there for hours.  Never coming out or making a sound.  We tried coaxing her out with food, but that failed.  Eventually this went on and on.  We finally had to pull the sofa out to get to her. LOL!  My dad made a comment "Boy, she's a little nuisance!"  And that's how she got her name.  She was quite a Nuisance, too!  This became more clearer as she got older.  She was also a rather "easy" she-cat. Yes, that's right. Every time we turned around she was pregnant.  Sure, we could have gotten her fixed, but when you live on a farm, that's one of the last things you think to do to your animals.  So she was like the Energizer Bunny of cats...She kept going and going and going.  But she was a good cat for the most part. Sure she had her weaknesses, like getting outside a lot (which led to her "scarlet letter").  Her last litter was actually born on my birthday one year.  It was one lone brown tabby kitten, whom we named Squirrel, because he was so small, like a baby squirrel, and he later lived up to that name, as he was quite squirrelly! Hilariously so! About a year later, Nuisance got outside and never came back home.  She was 10 years old at this point.  We decided she knew she was going to die, so she went off to do it alone.  It was a sad sad day. Mainly because I knew that I hadn't been paying much attention to her for a long time, and that I regretted deeply.  :*{  
I tried to replace Nuisance.  You can't replace a pet though.  Nothing can ever live up to the pedestal that you placed that one amazing pet on.  

So her son Squirrel remained a permanent fixture in our household.  He was a great cat.  So smart.  And he knew if something was wrong, he could sense this.  He was good with kids, albeit a bit feisty. lol. 
We didn't get to many years with Squirrel however.  About four years later, he developed a stomach problem. He couldn't keep his food down, and was always getting sick.  We got angry at him when this happened, before we realized what it was, and that it was fatal.  We could have taken him to a vet, but growing up on a farm, you don't take your cats to vets.  It's just the cycle of life.  They're born, you have fun with them, love them, play with them, and then they pass on.  Squirrel was probably the one that hurt the most of all the pets I lost.  At this point I was 25, and well past the point of childhood.  However, it was also an end of an era. He was the last litter that dear Nuisance ever bore.  I remember that night so clear.  He was laying on a towel on the deep freeze, labored breathing.  We all went out to say our goodbyes to him. Even my mom...who didn't get attached to any of our pets.  I cried over him.  I begged him not to die.  I know it sounds silly.  But he was our Squirrel.  He was still a "baby" in my eyes.  He shared my birthday.  My mom was the last one to say goodbye to him. We think he was waiting for her, a way to be released to pass away.  It was a very emotional night for all of my family.  


I haven't had a pet since then.  


I came to a sad conclusion tonight after watching "Marley & Me": I don't know if I could ever have a pet again.  Getting another pet means opening myself up to love something that will leave someday, whether willingly or not.  I don't know if I can do that again.  I don't know if I can allow myself to "love" that way again.