Be Careful What You Ask For

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU ASK FOR              
 
                                                                                Susan R.   Grout                                                                                                                                 

                                                                                  

You never know the importance of your words and what just might be taken seriously.  I learned this lesson from a good buddy of mine, a cat named, Boo Boo. Not an ordinary cat but a huge one. I have a tradition of huge cats but Boo Boo was the champ, weighing in at a hardy 20 lbs. At nearly 18 years of age he was still a magnificent grey tabby with regal bearing, Jack Nicholson eyes and an enormous head. He had developed arthritis which bowed his front legs and made him trundle when he walked. He also began having seizures of increasing intensity and, sadly, lost his meow altogether. He took to purring loudly when he wanted to communicate, or would open his mouth and make a rasping sound in pantomime of a meow. He was my buddy and my shadow, following me as I gardened and was always next to me in the house. In his last year the seizures increased but he didn’t seem to be suffering, despite all of his maladies. He was always so affectionate and I could not bear to ‘put him down’.

I kept waiting for a sign that enough was too much. His last seizure was in August out on our deck.  After his whirling and jerking stopped, I knelt to comfort him and while petting him said, “You’ve got to help me out here, buddy; I don’t know what to do about you.”

After a few minutes he seemed fine, shook himself off and went to drink out of the plant water. I went upstairs and hopped into the shower. While in the bathroom I heard a truck, but paid it no attention. Josh, my then 25 year old son, had come racing home to gather some tools from our shop. In his haste he jumped out of the truck, left the motor running and bolted into the shop. Tools in hand he leaped back into the truck, put it in gear, took off and immediately hit something. All I heard from above was “Oh my God, NO”! Then, as I was drying myself off, I heard the tires squeal as he roared off. Later I learned that Boo Boo laid down in front of the rear wheel on the passenger side of Josh’s truck and Josh never saw him. Boo Boo was badly  injured, so Josh whipped off his tee shirt and carried the now struggling, clawing animal to the cab of his truck and raced to the vet with the cat in his lap.

At the clinic, Josh gently gathered Boo Boo in his arms and raced into the building. He rushed in shirtless, his chest scratched and bleeding. In a strangled voice, sobbing Josh said to Terry the receptionist, “You’ve got to save him, I ran over him.” The staff at the clinic had known Boo Boo for years. But this was different.  Terry in tears herself said, “Oh Josh, I’m so sorry, the cat is dead.”  Then news crushed Josh. The entire staff gathered around him and the dead cat, so touched to see this strapping young man weeping that they were also tearful.

Josh brought him home to me still wrapped in his bloody tee shirt. Boo Boo looked asleep and peaceful and, remarkably, was still warm to the touch. We laid him on the grass on the front lawn, both of us petting him and crying.

 Josh had two close friends die in separate accidents in that past year so I knew that this accident carried extra freight for him. I told Josh the whole story about Boo Boo’s last seizure and how I asked him to “help me out because I didn’t know what to do with him.” ”Josh”, I said “I ‘m convinced that he did help me out by lying under your truck.”

 In truth I wanted to fall on the grass and sob into the earth. Josh’s pain and the look in his eyes put a stop to any thought of I had of self indulgence. Instead we cried together and eulogized Boo Boo until my husband came home and we buried our buddy.  Josh made a stout wooden cross that I can still see from my front window.

susansmagicfeather copyright 2011 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved.