I really don’t want to eulogize my pet but I’m going to push the envelope here and post one more realization about Rowan’s passing.
I typically go about my day enjoying and basically taking for granted everyone whom I love–my wife and daughter, siblings, parents, etc. And then Rowan. Rowan, you see, was just a cat. I paid her special attention every now and then, singing silly songs to her (yeah, I know that’s weird), but for the most part she was just part of the backdrop, the “furniture” of my life. Then she was gone.
I’ll never forget the first time I called her name and there was no response, no back-call from her. I stood there at the door calling for a pet who, unbeknownst to me was laying on the front curb, dead. Her name just seemed to go out and land in nothingness.
In the aftermath of finding her, my mind wandered to the many people I would lose or who would someday lose me. The same dreadful void and stillness and silence would be there again. After calling the name of that beloved spouse or friend for decades and never failing to get a response, the day will come when we will call and get no answer.
“All flesh is like grass, and all its glory like the flower of grass. The grass withers and the flower falls off” (1 Peter 1:24).
Love them while you can.