Your Pet Tributes

'Sugarfoot'

by Joe
(Chesapeake Beach, Maryland)

Sugarfoot came into my life five years ago. He was adopted by my girlfriend from a humane society in the tri-county area. Right from the beginning, we had a bond, he and I. I remember the first day I saw him meowing and wandering about. I remember calling to him, and even though he had never seen me before, he came up to me as if we had been best friends for years. Not an hour later, he was asleep on my lap, content for all the world, a warm bundle of furry joy.

Even then he had his distinctive look: all white, except for orange puffs around his ears and cloud-like puffs around his stomach. He was the kind of cat who would purr if you just looked at him. Even then.

There was a time, near that very beginning, where I did not think I could look after him. Gone for so long during the day, it just killed me to see him looking out at me as I drove off to work not to return for so long. I thought then that he might be better off with someone else looking after him, someone home more often than I. But when it came time to find him a new home, I simply could not do it. I did try, but it was a weak effort, for when I looked into his eyes I could see that for all the world he wanted to stay with me. Needless to say, a month later, and he was still with me.

Also with us then was another adoptee, Simon. Even though Sugar missed me whenever I was gone, Simon and he got along almost right from the start. They were like two brothers. They roughhoused. They looked out for each other. And sure, they fought once in a while too. But underneath it all they loved each other the way only two brothers can.

For a time, all was well. Then, about a year and a half into his life, Sugar was diagnosed with cardiomyopathy. My first thought was the absolute worst: he wouldn’t be able to live a long, good life. But I learned there were treatments, medications that offered hope: atenolol every day and low-dose aspirin twice a week.

Sugar didn’t take well to having an oral syringe deposited into his mouth—at least not for the first few days. But before long he took the atenolol like a seasoned pro. He even lifted his head back in anticipation of it. He knew it mean't a treat was coming afterwards. The baby aspirin, however, was another story. He never really accepted taking it, no matter what flavor, no matter how much encouragement I gave him. Yet he did seem to understand—in a way beyond words—that these medicines were somehow helping him, even that yucky aspirin stuff.

He spent most of his days sleeping either by my side or by my girlfriend’s side. He never lacked of a good nap ;- ) I suppose the medicine made him pretty sleepy. But he also went hunting with Simon in the backyard, made time for playing indoors when the weather was bad, chased away countless bugs, mice, and even had an encounter with a snake (although I’m sure Sug would blame that one squarely on Simon’s shoulders).

He was always just so happy and full of love that sometimes it made my shake my head and wonder how so much goodness was possible in a mortal being. It was as though he knew to cherish the time he had—and, boy, cherish it he did! Every day, hour and minute. Every moment of time that went by, except when I was giving him a bath, of course, and I think we can give the big fella a pass during those moments.

After continual good news from his cardio exams, I had begun to believe that he would live that long, good life after all. There were no signs otherwise—not a one, not a single indication of problems. There was just Sugar enjoying his life. But that’s the thing with his disease that I had kind of stored away in the back of my mind because I hadn’t wanted to accept it: sudden death was always a possibility. And in the end, it was this sudden death which took him to a better place.

He died just outside my front door last Wednesday, October 29, 2008. He looking in one last time, as if to say goodbye in his own way. He did not suffer for a single moment in the end, and for that, I am and always will be eternally thankful.

Sugar lived not only a good life; he lived a great life. He did not let cardiomyopathy or any other thing of this world stop him from happiness, from loving and being loved. I know that now he is in a place without disease, a place where his happiness and love can run forever unrestrained. I know this will carry him far, to make new friends, to look down over me from time to time, but I know also that he will not wait in sadness for my girlfriend and me, for on some level of which only the freed soul can be aware, he knows that our time here is simply not yet finished.

I look forward with a heart brimming with eagerness to the moment when I will meet him again, to that moment when we will walk over the Rainbow Bridge together. Until then, I will remember him for the angel sent from heaven that he was, and my memories of him will be only happy. He was a blessing in my life. He taught me with his heart how to love, when I sometimes wasn’t sure I had such a great thing inside of me.

I will cry no more for him. I know that he would not want that, nor perhaps the millions tears that have already wetted my face that my love for him was—and always will be—so great. He would want me to honor him by living a life worthy of meeting him on the other side, so that we may take that special walk. I will do that for my buddy, and I will do so with joy. I will honor his memory; I will love him always; and I will see him again in that place where pain and suffering have no power, where there exists only freedom and love and connectedness.

Sug, my dearest buddy: I will see you again. Until then, enjoy the wonders of your new, boundless life. Now you are truly free.