OCTOBER EIGHTH

October 8th, 2001. My only pet I'd ever had, a six-month-old tabby cat named Rontu, was diagnosed with feline Leukemia in it's latter stages. There was no hope for his life, the vet said, even if my young family could have afforded treatment. If you've never loved an animal as a companion and friend, you'll not understand the grief I felt. And if you have loved a furry friend, your soul and mine understand one another in how terrible it is to lose them. We laid him to rest on October 8th, 2001. I tossed one of the last budding flowers of the season onto his cardboard coffin, where my words of love and parting were scribbled on a notebook page above his precious little feline body, before Dad slowly sealed his grave with soil.

For a long time I wore his collar on my wrist as a bracelet, left tear streaks on my pillow, took somber strolls around the playground. 

It sounds dramatic...but at age nine with a cruel 4th grade teacher, a playground void of friends, and an ever increasing confusion in mathematics, losing my cat sunk me into the earliest season of grief I can remember. Rontu helped me cope with my frustrating realities at school; we played together, he snuggled in my lap, and he never said an unkind word. I was just a little girl with a little feline friend.

I realize there are children who have suffered far and away worse circumstances beyond anything I ever did. But that doesn't diminish that his loss was, truly, painful for me. 

I write this post today for two reasons:

One. If you know someone who has an animal companion whom serves for them as a coping or comfort animal, I hope you'll show them compassion and understanding, not condemning or disgust. We all have obstacles we are constantly muscling our way through, and for many, animals serve as a kind friend to help them feel peace and joy amidst the struggle. My pets certainly did for me during seasons of heartache as a child.

Two. Be kind to children and their interests, pains, joys, and struggles. The pain has long, long, long passed from my dear kitten's loss, but every October 8th, I remember. I remember the disparaging comments from kids on the bus as they commented on my tears. However, I also remember my parents--my parents who listened, who held me when I cried and cried and cried. My Mom, who saved his collar for me and told me I could wear it and squeeze the little heart tag with his name on it when I felt sad. My Dad, who remembered with me on the one year anniversary of when we picked him up at the pet store. 

I was only nine years old, but as an adult, I remember. And I plead with you to love, to listen, and to invest in the interests of your children as my parents did for me. Because they remember, and they might be going through an October 8th 2001 type of day, and they will likely need your patience, and your love.