Of late I am plagued with tears for two reasons. This is one reason. The other is my PTSD, but that is another story.
I had a cat named Buddy Boy who used to live with my neighbors Joe and Karen but moved to the barn when Joe let several cats outside. He became a somewhat feral cat. Every night for several years, I would meet Buddy Boy (my name for him; he was originally named Charlie) on our front porch and feed him, and teach him with great patience, chatter, and some chicken, that it was okay to be touched by me. After about a year we were close enough that I no longer had to wait for him to show up but could instead call him and he would typically show up within minutes, often waiting by the barn ready to sprint at hearing “Buddy Boy!” Buddy Boy and I would sit together, watch stars, see the planes go overhead, listen for coyotes, and even talk about family, friends, politics and the mysteries of life! He was a great listener. Eventually he would sit in my lap on the rocking chair. I built a shelter of chairs and blankets to keep him warm on our porch if he decided to spend the night on our porch. I brought him in once in a while, but it would terrify him and these events were brief. He adopted another cat, a kitten, and guided that kitten in hunting, hiding, and meeting me and Patrick and Ashley and Kolby. His name became Little Guy and we were fortunate to find him a home in NC as he was able to be an indoor cat. But not so with Buddy Boy. Inside still panicked him after three years!
Our dear friend, Karen, agreed to take three of our cats when we moved to Florida. She took Mitzi and Mary Ann (the twins) and they stayed in her home a while, then Mitzi moved to the barn. Buddy Boy stayed in a while, then he moved to the barn. Karen feeds the barn cats, thank goodness, but she says she has not seen Buddy Boy since he went out. This broke my heart, which was already riddled with sorrow.
We moved to Florida and are now living in our new home with two of our cats, Callie and Kitty Karen. Holly and Gracie remain with Joe and Melanie and primarily live outdoors by choice. Callie and Karen live indoors. Uncle Tom now lives with us, with his cat Molly who has never been an outside cat. She is about 10 and has adapted beautifully. Of course, Molly has known Pat and me and Skipper from our many visits to see Tom and Dorothy in Virginia over the last three years. Dorothy passed away last year.
In the last week or so, I find my thoughts are focused on Buddy Boy often and suddenly. I do not know why since I tend to be one who pushes sorrow away from my heart so I can move on and come back to deal with it in solemn moments by myself. I have not been able to understand why this is happening recently so often. Two nights ago I had a dream in which I saw Buddy Boy sitting on a table in our bedroom doorway. He looked wonderful. He was watching me so lovingly. He looked solid, not like a spirit. I immediately opened my eyes, but the doorway was empty of table or cat.
I talked with Ruth yesterday and she has heard no word about Buddy Boy from Karen, but Karen will be in NC and she will check for me.
Since he is a now feral cat with barn feedings, I will not know if he was just stopping by in spirit to say hello and to let me know he is okay, or stopping by in spirit to let me know he has passed on and to say goodbye. I cry as I write this. I love you Buddy Boy, so much! Love, “Mama”
I had a cat named Buddy Boy who used to live with my neighbors Joe and Karen but moved to the barn when Joe let several cats outside. He became a somewhat feral cat. Every night for several years, I would meet Buddy Boy (my name for him; he was originally named Charlie) on our front porch and feed him, and teach him with great patience, chatter, and some chicken, that it was okay to be touched by me. After about a year we were close enough that I no longer had to wait for him to show up but could instead call him and he would typically show up within minutes, often waiting by the barn ready to sprint at hearing “Buddy Boy!” Buddy Boy and I would sit together, watch stars, see the planes go overhead, listen for coyotes, and even talk about family, friends, politics and the mysteries of life! He was a great listener. Eventually he would sit in my lap on the rocking chair. I built a shelter of chairs and blankets to keep him warm on our porch if he decided to spend the night on our porch. I brought him in once in a while, but it would terrify him and these events were brief. He adopted another cat, a kitten, and guided that kitten in hunting, hiding, and meeting me and Patrick and Ashley and Kolby. His name became Little Guy and we were fortunate to find him a home in NC as he was able to be an indoor cat. But not so with Buddy Boy. Inside still panicked him after three years!
Our dear friend, Karen, agreed to take three of our cats when we moved to Florida. She took Mitzi and Mary Ann (the twins) and they stayed in her home a while, then Mitzi moved to the barn. Buddy Boy stayed in a while, then he moved to the barn. Karen feeds the barn cats, thank goodness, but she says she has not seen Buddy Boy since he went out. This broke my heart, which was already riddled with sorrow.
We moved to Florida and are now living in our new home with two of our cats, Callie and Kitty Karen. Holly and Gracie remain with Joe and Melanie and primarily live outdoors by choice. Callie and Karen live indoors. Uncle Tom now lives with us, with his cat Molly who has never been an outside cat. She is about 10 and has adapted beautifully. Of course, Molly has known Pat and me and Skipper from our many visits to see Tom and Dorothy in Virginia over the last three years. Dorothy passed away last year.
In the last week or so, I find my thoughts are focused on Buddy Boy often and suddenly. I do not know why since I tend to be one who pushes sorrow away from my heart so I can move on and come back to deal with it in solemn moments by myself. I have not been able to understand why this is happening recently so often. Two nights ago I had a dream in which I saw Buddy Boy sitting on a table in our bedroom doorway. He looked wonderful. He was watching me so lovingly. He looked solid, not like a spirit. I immediately opened my eyes, but the doorway was empty of table or cat.
I talked with Ruth yesterday and she has heard no word about Buddy Boy from Karen, but Karen will be in NC and she will check for me.
Since he is a now feral cat with barn feedings, I will not know if he was just stopping by in spirit to say hello and to let me know he is okay, or stopping by in spirit to let me know he has passed on and to say goodbye. I cry as I write this. I love you Buddy Boy, so much! Love, “Mama”
