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I'm right there with you man. I had to put my dog down last year, and I was a mess for a few months. I've just now replaced it with a rescue dog. Who looks almost exactly like my previous Yellow Lab. Its rough though. Hope you feel better.

Wade, I''m sorry about Sascha. It's funny how an amimal can get to you sometimes.

Around here, a feral cat last too long--a coyote will usually get one before a car does. Regardless, the outome's usually the same. People take their pets out here and just dump them, figuring that the animal will fend for itself. I'd like to take the same people and dump them in the middle of the woods, myself.

Thank you for trying to make the life of a creature better.

People always have a spot in their heart for the underdog. Or undercat.

Your description was compelling, and for whatever it's worth, I feel some small part of your loss, too.

Don't chide yourself for becoming attached. It's why you became a Symphony player rather than a hockey player.

(The cat croaked, eh?)

Sascha was a tuba cat. What more can be said?

You have a heart of gold. When you care a lot, it can hurt a lot. Sorry for the passing of your pal. I don't think there was anything more that you could have done. Some things are beyond us but that doesn't stop it from hurting.

Take care and play a few etudes for Sascha....

Jeff

Wade,

I was deeply moved by your post when I read it earlier this morning and have thought about it for much of the day.

Take some comfort in knowing the Sascha gave you the gift of permitting you into his life and allowing you to show your care and compassion for him. If that was his purpose in life, he fulfilled it well.

Thanks for sharing your story. I wish both you and your wife peace.

Alex F.

bloke wrote:After that, she was "my" cat. That cat is nearly seven years old now, and follows me around the place like a loyal family dog. Usually, she is in my workshop here at the "new" place when I'm out there...or if I'm up here on the computer she is at my feet snoozin'.

Our cat was my wife's mother's. When my future wife and I first started appearing at her mother's house for visits, the cat would hide. I would drape a hand down by the side of the chair, holding out a finger. This, of course, is eventually irresistable to any cat. Once she was comfortable and within range, she discovered that she liked the way I scratched her back. Since then, all I have to do is drop a hand next to the chair, tap the floor, and wiggle my fingers, and she will run to that spot from anywhere in the house.

But she won't curl up at my feet while I'm working on the computer. Instead, she'll stand next to the chair and meow at me until I scratch her back. It limits productivity when I'm working at home--I can't type one-handed. I wish she would sleep. She'll stand at my feet and meow at me when I'm playing the tuba, too. I can't do that one-handed either.

My wife's mother passed away four years ago, and we considered where the cat would go, as if it hadn't already been decided. She's 8 or 9 now--the time does fly.

Rick "whose home life is ruled by a 6-pound cat" Denney

The deep,bright,and vivid emotion you're feeling and evoking in us strips away the mundane problems of daily life and brings us closer to God.This is also,IMO, why we're drawn to music(and the lesser arts too).Thanks for sharing...

Having three dogs around for about the last 30 years, I've gone through quite a few losses. However, one learns that with the loss of a great pet, there will be another great one come along. I think one learns, with experience, how to pick them. The Chessie I just got to fill Orson's spot is turning out to be a winner.

You might recognize the late, great Orson -- who was all Alpha dog to the max, but a dedicated mama's boy and was usually wherever the wife was.
(from a previous thread)


And Junior, the current man of the house and rat and mole killer, still holds the all-time title of Mr. Personality.

Then there was Brutus, my best Irish Setter, prior to my switch to Chessies, a food thief who, after I tried storing the food in a trash can with locking handles, took about 20 minutes to figure how to pull the handles down, take off the lid, and steal the food. Lordy, that dog was smart.

We had some neat dogs when the kids were growing up.
My wife now gets cats from her sister who is a cataholic and keeps a house full of them. Our present cat was an adventurous four year old male when we got him to replace a picky old female that croaked. Charlie likes to jump in vehicles going wherever. He made a great boat cat-loves to stand night watch if we let him go out and jump on every other boat in the marina and leave those paw prints on everything.
My wife spent a few days with her sister and Charlie and I hung out on the houseboat and sailed together when it was warm and breezy. He's now my "buddy" and I can't get rid of him. He even likes my guitar playing. I guess I'll miss this guy when he croaks.

When I first read your post, I read "catholic" instead of "cataholic!" Talk about being confused.