When our sweet boy, Morgan, passed a few months ago I slept worse than I had since the day I plopped myself on Dave’s bed and announced myself sleeping there. But why?
For once there was no yowling at 2am.
No one drooling on my ear lobe.
There wasn’t a puuurrrrrrr on never-ending loop coming from the foot of the bed.
I didn’t feel two tiny paws doing a milk-tread into my stomach.
The smell of urine no longer lingered on my old bath-mats (which I’ve since replaced).
I couldn’t sleep because he was still there. His midnight yowls- the ones that had changed over the past few years, from play to confusion. The once spry kitty had dwindled into a form of dementia, but never let go of his spirit- making demands all night for more water, or to get under the blanket, or to be let into the room, or let out of the room. I could still hear him.
As the days passed, I heard him less and less. Dave and I found ourselves scrambling to the back door a few times- thinking he would be there, but knowing he wasn’t. We woke up, rolling over because we swore we heard him. And then we didn’t… and sometimes we still do.
Morgan was an amazing cat, and after a full life, Dave and I found that he truly taught us more than we knew.
1. You only live once.
2. You can live without a lot of sleep- at least for a while.
3. Poop in private.
4. Ask for what you want and be persistent.
5. Eat like a pig, but when you do, run around A LOT!
6. Everyone needs snuggles.
7. All you really need to drink is water.
8. Show others you care and appreciation for what they’ve done for you.
9. Even the cutest of beings have smelly bums. (My translation: never act like your poop don’t stink.)
10. Know when to say no.
When we lose our furriest family members, we realize just how much they meant- these furry loves are more than pets. They’re more than friends. They teach us love and affection. They teach us how to care for others and how to budget time and money. Animals are amazing creatures we are so blessed to care for and love, no matter how much time we get. Thank you, Morgan, for your 17 years of lessons and love.