Loves Left Behind

It occurred to me one day that our grief is sometimes incredibly human-centric. We forget or are less considerate of the grief of our pets.  Sure animals grieve one another, I've witnessed that. But I am more and more convinced that the creatures we are charged with caring for, grieve with us, but also personally grieve the loss of their special people. I believe they are empathetic and share connections with their humans that someday will be revealed to us by our Creator. 

Grief is incredibly personal and complex, and I can only speak for myself how those complexities sometimes play out. We grieve that which 'might have been' often. We grieve what 'was' even more.  And there somewhere in the midst of "what was" exists the everyday interactions of our son with others, including interactions with and affection for our pets. 

Our son Corban loved animals.  I'm not sure he'd describe himself as an "animal lover" specifically. He just loved. He loved people, he loved animals, he even loved cool looking succulents and he most definitely loved good food. I would say though, that animals had a special place in his heart.  Every animal we have ever owned has been chosen by Corban and most were rescues.  Each one of them a unique 'love left behind' like the rest of us in our modest family.

We were recently captive in our home due to a snowstorm.  As a result, I found myself communing and catching up with our fur family.  Each of our animals bring about a flood of memories depending on their antics and behavious.

I've mentioned to friends recently how at times I've caught the animals staring out doors and

windows and not always in a casual typical way, but in a way that suggests they're missing him too, or remembering his roughhousing with them, or maybe when he'd pull them into a tight hug and pull them close on the couch or in his bed. Or when he'd sneak them snacks or pick them up and lug them around. Even 60 lb. Julie.  And it's Julie who will most often stare into the air above us or into a corner, or she'll saunter around the hallway and stand outside his room, and just hold there for a few minutes. 

Cody, a toy poodle, also our senior dog, has developed a cough with age. It's really not a medical issue. He will be 15 in April and he has many age-related quirks.  Yet I've noticed since Corban left he's even more confused. He needs more help these days and doesn't trust his instincts or strength and rightly so. 

I still remember the day Corban brought him home. He got Cody from one of his teachers and he was so proud of his very first pet. (Besides fish. We've had fish on and off through the years as his interest in them waxed and waned.)  I look at Cody the poodle, and I remember snuggles, and playful antics, and lots of laughs.  I also remember witnessing Corban's nurturing side as he understood Cody was aging. 

 

All the animals were named by Corban as well.  Lizzie the cat (short for Elizabeth) was spotted at the pet store one day as Corban, his mother and our nephew (Corban called him Cuz-Cuz), went to retrieve some new fish and fish supplies.  A box of rescued kittens, actually virtually emptied, save one black, tortoise-shell kitten, sat at the door with a sign accepting donations.  Corban saw Lizzie, and that was that. Lizzie and Corban had a special bond.  Of our feline fur family, Lizzie was closest to Corban. Corban and Lizzie shared a love for sarcasm.  (Trust me, if you know you know).  

Lizzie is not an easy cat all the time, and she can sometimes be sassy. She does love people, but she is very much 'large and in charge'. Even our dogs are intimidated by her. 

 

 As Corban got older he shortened her name once again simply to Liz, but he was the only one who called her that most of the time. We still call her Lizzie. She is a little edgier and a little more skiddish these days at home. Partially, due to the addition of the newbie cat, but she's also tentative 

One noticeable difference between the way Corban treated the other animals and the way he treated "Liz" was the way he talked to her.  I noticed over time that as Corban and Lizzie grew, his conversations with her lacked the schmoozy baby talk he used with all the other animals. 

 

He'd talk to Lizzie more conversationally, like a person, or more like an equal. It was interesting and endearing.

 On Corban's 16th birthday, he ran an errand with his mom to Wal-Mart.  Some special friends of ours had a litter of puppies to give away to good homes.  In the back of the kennel hiding behind brothers and sisters, Corban and his mom noticed a fearful and shy puppy whose eyes and whimpers were pleading "don't pick me, don't pick me". 

It was no surprise then when Corban, a champion for the underdog, with a relentless softside for cute babies and adorable animals reached back into the kennel and called that little scared puppy...Juliette which soon became Julie. 

 I would love to say that her shy and fearful demeanor has changed or improved throughout the years, but that's not the case. She's naturally anxious, very cautious but very, very sweet. She's a people pleaser and Corban adored her and became her protector. Though she refused to be in the same room with her protector when he was watching sports on tv. And if things got too competitive (winning or losing it could be loud), she'd retreat to the half-bath just off to the side of our living room and wait there until things simmered down.  I remember Julie was always so excited when Corban came home. On weekends as time and commitments allowed, they'd lay on the couch and snuggle at least as long as one or the other could tolerate it. 

 

 Earlier in the summer before Corban began working for the Sheriff's department, he was still working for the moving company he'd been with since high school. On one of his last runs, the home was empty, they'd loaded the trucks, the family had moved elsewhere and outside on the grounds he spotted a tiny sick calico kitten alone on the property. 

After searching for any signs of other kittens or a mother, Corban sent the scrawny little kitten's picture in a text to his mom, and then called her. He explained he couldn't leave her there.  It had been raining and after exploring the property, he couldn't stand the thought of leaving her sick and alone. He was always about a rescue. 

Upon arrival to meet the rest of her family Corban had deemed her "Lucy".  Lucy has a personality as colorful as her fur.  She is hysterical at times, a little quirky, and definitely a traditional "cat" in every sense of the word.

 Lucy loved Corban, and would often sleep with him. To this day she sleeps at the foot of his bed much of the time. In fact, she and Lizzie our senior cat are often jockeying for "the spot." 

I truly believe that Lucy misses Corban and that she appreciates the familiarity and comfort of his bed, and that the smells contained throughout his room remind her of him. 

Our final addition to our family came in Corban's leaving, but he's still part of Corban's story. We held our son's memorial in our church gym.  The same gym where he'd played basketball and horsed around with friends.

The casket was positioned appropriately underneath the basketball goal with streams of friends and family and coworkers sifting in and out.

All the while unbeknownst to us Preacher the cat, a dingey, mingled tabby cat, with no tail, ran in

 only to be tossed back outside. We had no idea both the funeral directors, and church staff as well as law enforcement posted inside and outside were playing a game with this small bobtailed kitten who was attempting time after time to attend the service.

 When it came time to pause the receiving line, in popped the kitten again.  His tiny frame pushing his way eventually to my wife and ending up in the arms of one of our close friends who also serves as our local funeral director who also happens to be an animal lover who also often helps rescue cats and dogs.  I was clueless of all this.  A friend motioned me over, and laughed and said, "I think you have a new cat." "No way," I said, "We already have two cats and two dogs." "Oh yeah, we'll see about that."  To me, the idea was laughable.

We went home after the service with no cat as I had expected. The next morning, I spotted a 'to-do' list on the table. One item on the list simply read "Preacher".  We don't call our pastor "preacher" so I was confused. "Is a preacher coming by today?"  to which my wife replied, "No, I'm running out to pick up the new cat. That's his name, "Preacher" because he came to Corban's service.  And that was that. 

And while honestly Preacher annoys me to no end, he brings my wife great comfort, and I have to admit on my worst days, he will find me in my low place, and minister to my soul like no other human can. I believe that animals understand and know our pain. I believe they have special purposes that we will one day understand. And I know late at night while I lament the drastic direction my life has taken and the hole that is left in our hearts and home, I am reminded that while we have all been left behind in this place, we are all loved. 

--CorbansDad

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"Good people take care of their animals..." 

--Proverbs 12:10a

One of my favorite posts recently came from Randy Alcorn:  "In The Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis portrays Sarah Smith as an ordinary woman on Earth who became a great woman in Heaven. On Earth, she loved both people and animals. In Heaven, She's surrounded by the very animals she cared for on Earth. Could that actually happen?  Knowing our gracious God and the delights He lavishes on His beloved children, and even his beloved animals, I would not be surprised. 'And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good.' --Genesis