The Passing of Shadow.

 

 

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed....

                                                

I made the bed alone today.  I didn't time myself, but it was very efficient.  And no fun at all. 

My best little buddy is no longer here to help.  

Bed making was Shadow's specialty.  He would bat, and pull, and roll until the covers were exactly right.  For him. 

I would tug, and slide, and try to glide the sheets from under him while he grabbed all the covers he could hold and made himself heavy. 

Only when the quilt placement was satisfactory and smooth (as if it were his idea), would he settle back down on top for an after-second-breakfast nap. 

There were many mornings I would fondly recite My Shadow for him. Especially the first two lines.



One night at Turkey Creek, I thought I heard someone on another trail yelling for help. 

"No, I think it's those people who were looking for their dog," said Mike.  Oh yeah, I forgot about them.  

We rode on.  The yelling faded away.  When we came back through, all was quiet.  

It occurred to me then that if you really do ever need help from another human, you should yell if you possibly can.  But not just once or twice.  You should yell until you can't yell any more.  Don't rest.  Don't wait quietly for help.  Start crawling.  And don't, whatever you do, pass out.

Because human brains have an amazing capacity to invent some plausible explanation and then go right on with what they were doing.  

I heard the oddly pitched sound from the vicinity of the cat door, and I did get up to look - once my emails were finished and sent.  

"Shadow?  Pepper?"  Pepper came strutting out of the bedroom alone. 

I poked my head out the back door, called Shadow, then went to the front door and did the same.  I came back, popped the cat door and sent it swinging, suspecting the low cross between a groan and a creaking noise had somehow come from it.  No.  

"Probably some animal that got away," was Popeye's suggestion.  

Shadow loved the yard at dusk and often ignored my calls, even for dinner.  Lizards, dragonflies, and the occasional frog or rodent got dragged in through that cat door nightly.  So yeah, maybe some animal.  It never even occurred to me that it could be our animal.

It was a couple more hours before we found him in the darkest corner of the closet, back in under the hanging clothes.  I slid him out carefully, his glossy black fur offering no resistance over the smooth and shiny laminate.  He wasn't moving, and barely breathing.  

No, no, no, no, no.  No, please, not Shadow.

Popeye and I left the emergency animal care clinic a little after midnight.  The vet opened the oxygen case for a moment so we could give our Shadow a good night pat before we left.  On oxygen and pain meds, his eyes fluttered open, just for a moment.  Then closed again. 

And true to my human nature of disbelief, we went home, fully expecting to pick him up in the morning with maybe a splint on his leg.  My brain allowed for no other scenario.  And certainly not the 2 a.m. call to tell me he was gone.

I've had a hard time getting myself to write about this.  It's been two weeks since I fetched his body home to the back yard pet cemetery.   

Whether our own car was the murder weapon, backing out of our own garage, or whether it was someone else's car out on the street, the truth is that taking life for granted is what we humans do.  Life.  And well-being.  And especially tomorrow.  

Shadow had us all completely charmed.  He was a gifted hunter.  He chirped like a Tribble.  He even got sour old Pepper to chase and play.  (Play!)  And yes, I loved him for his spirited assistance with all the household chores.  I miss him every day.

Cats may have secret lives, but there is one thing I know for a certainty about him, and it helps to stop the tears.   

Shadow loved every minute of his life here with us.  

And we loved every moment of his life here with us too.   

 

.... One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

 

(My Shadow.  Robert Louis Stevenson.)