The   Rainbow   Bridge

 
Just this side of Heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.  When an
animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet
goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our
special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of
food and water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and
comfortable. All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to
health and vigor.  Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and
strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and
times gone by.

The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing: they
miss someone very special to them--someone who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly
stops and looks into the distance. The bright eyes are intent; the
eager body quivers. Suddenly she begins to break away from the group,
flying over the green grass, little legs carrying her faster and
faster. YOU have been spotted and when you and your special friend
finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be
parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again
caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting
eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from
your heart...

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together.

(author unknown) 
 

CALICO


Yesterday afternoon I buried "Calico" in our back yard and planted 
flowers over her grave.  She was one of the best kitties I have ever
known, and I have known many.

I live in a university town, and college students are notorious for 
"adopting" pets without always thinking through all the issues 
involved.  A few years ago, when I was very active in our local Humane
Society, I got another of 'those' phone calls.  The Sweet Young Thing
on the other end of the line wailed,
 
"Oh, I don't know what to do!  The landlord just found out I have a
cat, and he won't let me keep her.  Please, please could you keep my
kitty just until I can find another apartment?  Then I'll take her
back to live with me!  Oh, please, can you help me?"

So a small, friendly calico cat came to join the menagerie.  Her owner
called frequently at first, and even came to visit her pet a couple of
times.  As the end of spring semester approached, two things became
apparent.  Kitty was going to become a Mother, diminutive and young
though she was.  And her owner was not going to take the cat and her
kittens home for the summer.

One Thursday evening while watching "L A Law", I heard suspicious
sounds coming from the nearby bathroom.  When I investigated I found
the small cat curiously inspecting a membrane-wrapped bundle on the 
tile floor. 

What's this?  
Where did it come from? 
Oh!!  I get it!  

Her instincts kicked in, and she successfully delivered and cleaned 
four more kittens.  One was born dead, but the other four thrived.
Like most cats she was a dedicated, competent mother.  Kittens are
more fun than a three-ring circus!  It was early in kitten season, so
we found good homes for three of the little critters, and for their 
spayed Mama, but a snag developed about the fourth.  

I called this one "Van Owen" at first, because she looked very like
her mother:  mostly white, with a few light calico patches.  Somehow,
she reminded me of the character I'd been watching while she was 
born.  Petite, feminine, composed, but very playful and affectionate.
She tested positive for HIV exposure.  In all good conscience, we
could not adopt her out.  Some people suggested that she should be
euthanized at once.  But I had become too fond of her already, and of 
her winning ways.  So she became my sixth personal cat.

We had about seven good years together.  It became obvious that "Van
Owen" was far too pretentious a name for such a clown.  Lacking enough
imagination to think of a more original name, I called her "Calico,"
"Callie" for short.  She was the smallest of the troop, and the most
affectionate.  She got along with everybody--welcomed at any food 
bowl, never fighting with another cat, the first to greet me whenever
I came home.  She and Nimrod would engage in mutual grooming, licking
sessions every night.  She slept on my bed.  

Callie's only flaw, in my human view, involved her hunting pursuits.
She keenly observed the others bringing in their prey, and loved to 
play Bat The Mouse and Steal The Mole, but she was so small that she
seldom brought in mice or moles.  Instead, she specialized in
lizards, minuscule snakes and butterflies.  Often I was able to
rescue them unharmed and turn them loose. 

About three weeks ago, Callie seemed to lose her vitality.  Instead of
jumping on my bed at night, she took to sleeping in a cat bed on the
floor.  Sometimes, when I picked her up, she mewed in protest, as if
something hurt.  For a couple of weeks she seemed to improve slightly,
but Sunday night I observed that she was worse.  The gentle vet put
her to sleep for the last time Monday afternoon.

Rest in peace, dear little friend.  And thank you for all the joy you
brought me.

ASHLEY
(by "Guinevere")

There have been many Great Cats that I have been privileged to share
my life with.  I live with one now-- a true Princess of a Cat. Regal
in her every movement and demand. 

But one, in particular, carved out a special place in my heart. Don't
ever believe that cats are aloof creatures . . .


Ashley was a little grey tabby, with white spots on each side of her
pink nose, and brillant chartreuse eyes. She was a foundling, as are
all of my pets, and I rescued her shortly after I finished college. I
found her through the mail girl at work, and I will never forget
driving home that first evening, with a teeny little kitten in a file
box. That night she slept curled up on my chest - I however was
afraid I'd roll over and squish her. It was a habit she never lost,
and eventually I learned to sleep with her snoozing somewhere on me.
 
Have you ever met something, or someone, that was a gift, only in
your life for a limited time? That was Ashley in my life. A cat that
knew my soul immediately, and could read me like nothing I had
experienced before. She was there through some of the toughest
periods of my life - when my parents divorced, when my grandmothers
died, when my boyfriend decided to marry someone else. No matter what
happened at the office, or back home, she was always waiting for me
when I opened the door, and she always listened and never reproached.

I took her to Vermont when I left DC for law school, and I knew she
loved "being in school." I would come home and find her curled up on
my law books, or maybe it was the sun she was trying to catch, on the
dining room table.

As I would write outlines, and papers, and my thesis, she would sit
sprawled across my shoulders, like a living breathing grey fur shawl.
I am sure she was reading what was going into the computer . . or
maybe she was just looking for a little extra warmth on those cold
New England nights.

She was a timid little thing. Most of my friends never even saw her,
and would tease me about my "invisible" cat. If the door opened and
she heard a new voice, she'd take off for the closet immediately.
Maybe it was better that way, she only had so much she could give.


We moved back to the city, and who knew that our time was coming to
an end. It was a golden summer that first summer back. Beautiful
weather, rekindling old friendships, traveling, working some, looking
for a job. I found one, and I was about to start out on my new life--
to reap the rewards of all the years of work and study. I guess it
was time for me to be on my own, I guess I had made it. Because that
weekend before I started work, at the age of seven, her kidneys
failed, and Ashley moved on too.


She was quiet, and delicate, and special, and clearly only on loan
for a little while. But it's nice to know that I will see her again,
on the Rainbow Bridge.
 







IN MEMORIAM







My Wonderful Red
By Brenda Pelletier

I lost my cat of 25 years.

We had such a wonderful life together.  I will cherish his memory
forever.  He died March 12, 1998, and I miss him so much.  But I know
he is content again in his new home—and well again.  Someday his 
mommy will be with him, and we will never, I hope, be parted again.

Red was so gentle.  In 25 years he never hissed, scratched me or bit 
me.  He only purred and talked to me all the time. 

Seeing we spent so many years together, we had this strong bond that 
only we could feel.  He actually knew when I needed him, and I knew 
when he needed me.  It was as if we read each other’s minds.  He was, 
and always will be, my best friend, my Kitty Cat, my Reddie.

I held him even in his last minutes.  He purred for me—only a few 
minutes—but enough to say,
“I love you, Mommy.”  

I cried so hard I thought my head was going to burst along with my
 heart.  That broke in tiny pieces.  But we will NEVER say “Good
 bye,” only “See you someday.  I’ll be there for you.” 

It was as though I had lost my brother.

What a guy.  He was so sweet.  
He wouldn’t even hurt a bird.  










If you would like to add some material about a pet you have lost, as 
a memorial, please leave a note at the Guestbook 
HERE or you may e-mail me at owascolgatwatervalleydotnet   In
either case, please include your e-mail address.  I would be happy to
add such material for anyone.  Thank you.


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 This page last revised 13Apr2001.


Original material copyright 1998-2001 by Lee Grove.  All rights reserved.