Rest in peace Walter . . . you were a brave little man

Whenever Liz and I lose a beloved pet, as we did earlier this week when our ailing cat Walter had to be put to sleep, we exchange e-mails with two good friends and fellow animal lovers, Al and Judy, because we know they will understand the grief that pet owners feel at a time like this.

I closed my latest note to them by saying the death of our pets reminds us that there is a downside to living with animals. “Yes,” Al replied a short time later. “They do break our hearts, don’t they.”

Like most of our animals, Walt was a rescue, adopted from the local animal shelter six years ago this month. He was about six years old when we got him, a long-haired black cat with a small white bib on his chest and a very calm and dignified manner. Walt wasn’t rambunctious or silly or entertaining. But he was very handsome. He carried himself with a noble bearing. And he loved us.

Walt developed health problems over the years, including a thyroid condition and failing kidneys, among other issues. We knew a few days ago that he had taken a turn for the worse, but he still enjoyed his meals, and he still wanted to be hugged. We didn’t know how sick he was until our vet ran a series of tests on Tuesday. Like many cats, Walt was a stoic. He hid his ailments well for a long time, and tried to soldier on without complaint. But the test results, coupled with Walt’s appearance and behavior that day, showed that there was no hope for him.

Liz and I went to the vet’s office to say goodbye on Tuesday afternoon. I’ve done this several times with various animals, and it never gets any easier. Even though we only had Walt for six years, he was part of our family, and we mourn him as such.
 

Animal lovers understand that perspective. Many other people probably do not. To them, a pet is “only a cat” or “only a dog.” More’s the pity.

There is a legend, or a myth, or a belief - call it what you will - that when pets die, they go to a meadow in some mysterious netherworld to enjoy healthy, illness-free lives while waiting for their still-living owners. When the owners die, they and their pets joyously reunite in that meadow. Together, they cross the “rainbow bridge” into heaven.

No doubt such an idea strikes many as saccharine or maudlin or even sacrilegious. Yet it brings comfort to people who have lost a cherished pet, as we try to imagine a hoped-for reunion. So I mention it here in memory of our dear Walter, and all the others who came before.