Monday, finds me with a full list of "to do's, " but my mind is on my son and his cat. A phone call tells me that Fyodor, the cat, has died. So what's the big deal, you ask? Fyo has been a part of my son's life for a long time, and, by extension, a part of our family.
In the wisdom that sometimes animals have he chose my son on a stormy day. Kind of a "look what followed me home" story. A miserable day in Baltimore this black cat is hiding from the rain and cold under my son's car as he comes out of his apartment to go to class. He runs away but remains in area until T returns. Wet, miserable, hungry he shows himself and follows T inside. A friendship begins. They lived together for 15 years, made at least 5 moves, got married and adopted a tiger-striped friend, Fiona. It has been a long life.
But he is only a cat, you say. Sure but like all good pets, he has offered unconditional love to my son. What a wonderful gift our pets give us. They are always so glad to see us. They bring us smiles with their antics. When life gives us challenges, they are there to cuddle and purr. They make us feel needed and important. So when they leave us, there is a void.
So this morning I salute Fyodor, the one eyed black cat who showed such wisdom 15 years ago to pick my son to be his owner. Way to go, Fyo!!!