Thursday, January 26, 2012

The Loss of a Companion and Healing

Of all the things I had thought about, planned, etc, about when we moved out to the country, the one thing that never crossed my mind was how much death there is out here.  People don't blog about it, nothing obvious other than butchering critters (eeek), nor did I ever read anything that told me to be prepared.

When we first moved out here, one of the new neighbors suggested that I never name any of the outdoor critters.  She called her spinster barn cats #1 and #2.  They lived to be a ripe old age of 9, which is very old for most barn cats, she said.  Apparently two to three years is the average age they make it to, depending on the area that you live.

Of course, I didn't heed her advice.  How could I when I had those first adorable chicks?  And of course, the first casualty was Marigold, my favorite little hen.  Stupid bird would hop into my lap any time I would sit outside and I fell in love with her.  I think a hawk got her, but I don't know for sure.  I cried off and on for several days, reminding myself that it was just a chicken.  Okay, some of us have really soft hearts.  I also cried when the last one from that first bunch of chicks died.  Ozzie was about three years old, and she just slowed down more and more each day, in spite of what I did.  There is only one in this batch of hens that has a name, Moonbeam.  And only because she will not go into the coop while there is a speck of light.  I did not allow myself to interact too much with these birds when they were little so I wouldn't get too attached to them.

We also have lost a few young barn kitties through the past couple years.  Each one was hard for me, but we recently lost Frank, my favorite.  We don't know what happened.  He and Momma cat were constantly together, then she was by herself.  She was very vocal, maybe trying to tell me what happened, but I couldn't understand other than to know something had happened by her tone.

My heart is broken again, but I know I'll heal as time goes on.  I still look for him in the usual places, hoping by some miracle he'll be there.  That too, will pass as time goes on.  He was such a pain in the butt, especially every time I was trying to garden, but I miss him. 

And I'm thankful that he was part of my life.


  1. So sorry about you cat and your chicken. Yes, the countryside/nature can be harsh. I'm not sure that hardening the heart is the way to go, though. At least not for me. The only way I can handle things like this is to know that nothing or no-one can go 1 minute early than by Divine Design. Hugs to you.

  2. Thanks, Barb. And sorry for the delay in responding. I was so saddened by the loss of Frank, then the other cats taking a trip...well, I just didn't want to blog about it quite yet, you know? But now, things are looking up!