On Huffington Post, Jody Thompson shares her grief about the death of her cat.
This weekend on Facebook, an acquaintance in Florida told us about her cat's terminal diagnosis.
All this brought back memories of feline, Jason, who reached out to me at the Humane Society in central New Jersey at the end of the 1990s. I let him pass over at a vet hospital in East Haven, Connecticut in mid 2013. Kidney failure.
And now, of course, I stare at my dog, Lily of the Valley, and figure, no way, can I go through another loss of an animal companion.
Pet grief is getting harder. Not easier.
That's even though society understands the extent of the loss. So, friends and neighbors reach out. There are books and articles on how to get on the other side of the devastation. And technology, diet, and drugs help us to keep our ill animal companions with us longer.
Why is "it" getting worse? I have a hunch it's because of the erosion of trust in just about everything. Liffe is no longer God, country, and Coca-Cola. Even the company, VW, that gave us Baby Boomers the bug, is a dirty big cheater.
Our animal companions are real. They're loyal. And they love us without any conditions. No human has been able to pull that off, on a sustained basis. Of course, we're unhinged when that four-footer furry presence has to leave us to cope with the world as it is, on our own.
The consolation? They will be there to greet us when we make our own journey into that other dimension. I have put my order in: No family at the pearly gates, only my animal companions Nicole, Joshua, Molly Mittens, Sarah, Callie, Carlotta, Point Pleasant, and Jason.