When I was growing up, I had a beautiful Siamese cat named Nibby II. We had just lost Nibby I and I was bereft of a best friend in the form of a pet. So we bought Nibby II at a home breeder two weeks later.
Fast forward to two months ago, I painted a portrait of Nibby II at Cheers Pablo, like the one I painted of Chocolate.
Nibby II was a mix of Lynx and Seal point Siamese. She slept with me under the covers every night, "massaging my back." During the day, if my bed was made, she either slept under the bed in front of the heat vent, or followed the sunny spots on the floor around the house. She just liked to be warm. But she was also a lap cat, and she loved to have me carry her around.
She didn't live as long as our first Nibby, who lived 18 years. Nibby II only lived 13 years. She died within 24 hours of a vet visit. I really don't know what happened. The vet said there was nothing wrong with her, but I knew there was. She had been pooping upstairs the last two years of her life. I don't know if she was trying to avoid our new dog, Trixie, the rat terrier. She used her litter box, which was in the basement, to urinate, but she pooped upstairs.
Losing my cats were the greatest loss of my life. I gave so much love to them, that when they died, a it seemed my whole heart went with them. It's not just in the losing of a loved one. It's in losing a part of my identity as a cat caretaker. Something that depended on me as much as I depended on it. I suppose that is why it is so hard for me to get over that loss. Not that one ever gets over it, but it does get easier as time goes on.
It is hard to get enough love back to pour into another living being. That is why it is taking me so long to get another pet, if I do.
Until then, I appreciate the blessings these pets have had on my life. They were a gift to me, as I hope I was a gift to them. And for that I am eternally grateful.