 Purred: Tue Mar 3, '09 7:57pm PST |
 | |  | | Cathy,
I can only repeat what other parents have said here - Macallan's sudden death shocked and grieved us all, and I have only enormous sympathy for you or for anyone who loses a beloved pet so suddenly and violently. But you were not to blame, and you were not being "punished" for any wrongdoing you might imagine you ever committed - and certainly not for caring for another animal in need!
I don't want to get deeply into a theological discussion here, because we probably come from many different spiritual paths here at Olde Furts. But put simply, I just don't believe any God worth the name would be so cruel. Nature, on the other hand, is often cruel, and it was nature that took Macallan - although ironically it was nature acting most unnaturally, because coyotes in the wild are not nearly so brazen. But coyotes that have gotten used to human proximity ... sadly, that is another story, as too many pet parents have learned. I am so sorry that your peaceful-seeming little desert town also has this problem of "wild" animals acclimating to human settlement and becoming increasingly brazen, and that you have experienced it in such a painfully personal way.
I can only pray with you that Mac didn't suffer or feel fear for very long, and agree with the others who have posted that, given the nature of the beast that took him, he probably didn't. But even though we others believe that, I doubt it can be much comfort to what your imagination conjures. I just hope you can stop imagining so much, eventually.
I'm glad you have the special memorial box for Mac, and I hope you find other ways of commemorating his existence and his impact on your life. And I hope that somehow you do find some comfort in such rituals and memorials ... and in your memories of better times with him and Tay both, the fondness they had for each other and their great, deep connection with you. I am sure Mac would not want you to blame yourself ... he would instead want you to remember the goodness you shared, the gentleness with which you nursed Tay, the wonderful care you took of all your furs including him. If he had been sick, you would have given him every bit as much attention as Tay received ... that is in your being, and it's one of the reasons for the remarkable bond you had with them both.
Eventually, I hope you can heal enough to renew that bond with your other furs. But it's understandable that you feel yourself holding back for now - and I hope you don't blame yourself for that as well, because I'm certain you're still taking wonderful care of them, and that they still feel and respond to your love. It's just that for you, that love is mixed with so much relatively new grief that you can't quite let down all the shields with them.
But although you will always remember this wound and always have some emotional scars from it, with time you'll also remember with less pain all the wonderful years you shared with Macallan, and realize that all that joy was not negated by that one terrible morning. The horror will never be nullified, but eventually it will be set in some balance with all of his gentle sweet nature, all of the playful moments you shared, all of the cozy naps and pettings. It seems dim comfort now, to invoke some future time when you won't be in as much pain, when you won't think first of his death and not of his very comfortable, happy, well-cared-for life, but it will come. You'll always have some regrets and "what-if" sentiments ... that seems to be the predominant theme of this thread ... but they won't always feel so devastating, and so guilt-wracking, as they have in these first months after losing him.
I wish you some peace of mind, with all my heart.
Love,
LoriEdited by author Tue Mar 3, '09 8:01pm PST
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