Yesterday I saw a heartbreaking sight. My cat Betsy, who I got at the same time as a kitten with her life companion Artie, was laying all curled up on the spot in the yard where I buried Artie about 3 months ago. It broke my heart to see her there. It isn't just a coincidence either since my yard is about 1/3 of an acre in the back. Those two little feral kittens came to me just at about 3 months old. And all the time we spent getting to know each other, very cautiously I might add, they were inseparable. Artie was the character of the two and would let me pick him up and snuggle a bit with him.
Betsy is the opposite and just to be able to scratch her head area for a few seconds when she is close enough is close to miraculous. I have been wondering how the dynamic of losing Artie would affect Betsy, as she was the one who alerted me to Artie's final moment. Artie had been poisoned I reckon from all the evidence I could cull. So I know she knew Artie had died especially since he struggled to stay with us a little over a week when he first showed signs of being ill. But when Artie died at about midnight, Betsy took off and wasn't around when I immediately took Artie's little body out back and buried him.
But obviously she knows where he is buried and although I dug down plenty far enough for Artie's final resting place I expect that Betsy and her keen sense of smell must have picked up some trace of him. To see her there hugging the top of his grave like that overwhelmed me and reminded me of the preciousness of life regardless of who or what is doing the living. It has been hard getting Betsy to acclimate to living here with us without Artie but she loves my big dog Jimi and snuggles up to him like she used to do with Artie when he was with us. I love all my little animals and when one hurts it hurts me as well. Such is the nature of this human being.
Betsy is the opposite and just to be able to scratch her head area for a few seconds when she is close enough is close to miraculous. I have been wondering how the dynamic of losing Artie would affect Betsy, as she was the one who alerted me to Artie's final moment. Artie had been poisoned I reckon from all the evidence I could cull. So I know she knew Artie had died especially since he struggled to stay with us a little over a week when he first showed signs of being ill. But when Artie died at about midnight, Betsy took off and wasn't around when I immediately took Artie's little body out back and buried him.
But obviously she knows where he is buried and although I dug down plenty far enough for Artie's final resting place I expect that Betsy and her keen sense of smell must have picked up some trace of him. To see her there hugging the top of his grave like that overwhelmed me and reminded me of the preciousness of life regardless of who or what is doing the living. It has been hard getting Betsy to acclimate to living here with us without Artie but she loves my big dog Jimi and snuggles up to him like she used to do with Artie when he was with us. I love all my little animals and when one hurts it hurts me as well. Such is the nature of this human being.
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