Losing a friend ... is losing a friend ...

My closest friend today ... picture before being "shaved"

As you know from a previous posting, I have only recently buried someone whom I really and truly loved, Sweetheart, the female cat who lived in three countries and helped me raise at least five little toms -- and managed to "rule" over all of them -- and a couple of females in addition. I wrote a little about her brother, Furface, but didn't mention that he and a couple of others -- depending upon the time of day or night and how much room exists under my covers -- have been, as they have always been, my really closest friends.

They even understand things about me that Sweetheart -- or my wife and children, for that matter -- didn't or don't understand ... or even could. For those of you who have pets -- dogs or cats, in particular, know exactly what I mean. Each relationship in life -- two-legged or four-legged -- is entirely unique as are the bonds among us.

And you felt and showed compassion when I lost little Sweetheart after 17 years. You understood that a hole is a hole is a hole ... whether in our lives upon the loss of a loved one (human, non-human, male or female) ... or in our backyard upon the digging of an earthen hole.

Well, Furface, who meowed so sadly on the night after I buried his beloved sister in the back yard ... is failing. I've had to have him shaved to help get at the fleas that have infested his weakening body. He was never large, but slipped to three and a half pounds about three months before his sister, Sweetheart, suddenly slid into that "next world" to await the rest of humanity.

He recovered, but is slowly returning to the skinny condition ... a little like Sweetheart was during her final month with us. Of course, his being shaved makes him look worse, and he is eating and is as feisty as ever when one of the other toms (especially Ralph or George) try to squeeze between him and my nose, mouth and eyes. I can hardly breath sometimes when I awaken in the middle of the night.

But Furface and I do talk, and he's made it clear to me that he wants to live for as long as possible. Needless to say, I won't allow him to live beyond a point where he cries or looks to be in any pain whatsoever. He'd understand.

But a new thought has entered my mind as Furface looks at me to tell me what his day was like while I was out teaching at Grays Harbor College. I'm getting older myself. And the older I get -- or any of us gets old -- we have more and more of those holes to fill, holes in our lives of those "spirits" who helped sustain us over the years ... and then, as suddenly as Sweetheart passed ...

Only the hole remains.

I sometimes think I am ready for Furface to leave. But I know that I'm not! Those of you who are older than I am -- and the number whom I know (who are older than me) decreases each year -- understand what I am saying.

One of these days -- maybe as far into the future as 2007 or 2008 -- another deep and painful hole will be where Furface's sweet spirit used to be -- a large spirit used to be! -- and is today.

Say a little prayer that Furface continues to recover (he's on another "up" thanks to appetite stimulant and a loving spirit) and that I won't have to shed a tear in the face of another hole in my life ... for at least a little while longer.

Furface is perhaps my closest friend today.