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“You Don’t Know What You’ve Got Till It’s Gone.”

~ Joni Mitchell

 

 

Warning: This post may seem a little over-emotional. Unless you have ever loved and lost a pet.

 

My cat, Mojo, died this week.

My quirky, handsome, wonky-eared, wild-whiskered, crazy and curious little tiger has gone, leaving a huge, cat-shaped hole in our family.

We’re all utterly heartbroken but it was time for him to go. We had to make the reluctant, painful decision that the kindest thing we could do for him was put him to sleep. How my brave-hearted husband found the strength to take Mojo on his final journey to the vet’s, I will never know.

The children were distraught – they have only ever known life with Mojo in it. But with their healthy take on the whole mortality business, they are slowly turning  their attention towards the prospect of new kittens. Their bereft parents, however, are still recovering. We had Mojo in our lives long before the children arrived, almost as long as we’ve had each other. It feels strange and wrong to not have him around, taking his rightful seat at family mealtimes or shadowing us up and down the garden path.

Amid the many fond memories, though, I feel bad about the days when the upkeep and maintenance of my human family felt like too much, and I’d grumble about the extra mess and work that comes with caring for an elderly cat. Now we are catless, and smelly puddles and extra laundry are no longer a feature on my never-ending list of chores. Yet I wish with all my broken heart that they were.

Kind of puts things into perspective.

Goodbye and God bless, beautiful Mojo. An unforgettable, irreplaceable friend.

 

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