I imagined myself this morning at the Abbey of Gethsemani, in New Haven, Kentucky, sitting on St. Joe Hill in the wee hours. My dear friend Jann is sitting next to me praying her “little prayers” as she likes to say because she is so humble in her love for God. Praying for me. We are waiting for the sun to rise, looking down into the eastern valley below us. I am holding a cup in my lap that is filled with grief from the loss of you yesterday. My little, black cat is no longer physically present in my life. I cry, the tears trickling down my face. Though I do not turn around to look, I sense so many sisters and brothers climbing St. Joe Hill to come and sit with us, praying in their own way, carrying their own cup of grief. Some of them know and love you, some of them only know of you. But all of them know grief, perhaps from the loss of their own beloved four legged friend, or perhaps from other losses that have hurt their hearts.
As I sip from this cup the memories of you begin to flow into my mind, and I can now remember you with such gratitude and wonder for the little being that you are. I think of you finding me on the Ohio riverbank sixteen years ago, a skinny, black cat that somehow had no home to call his own. I was not looking for a cat, had no desire for a cat, but later I understood that you had come to find me. That I would need your comfort and love as the years passed, and no matter where I went you would always be a part of my home. Later Reddogg became a part of that home, and you explained to him right off the bat that he was welcome, but that YOU would always be the Alpha in this house. I see you young and strong and oh! so brave. Brave enough to live on a houseboat surrounded by water for eight months. And we all know how much cats love water! Later here at Our treehouse you owned this property, able to run so fast, climb the rocks, and chase the butterflies and birds, all the things that cats do so well, and somehow at the end of each day you claimed your spot to sleep at the end of my bed. Then Pan showed up, a young kitten someone had dropped off close to Our Treehouse. I will never forget the day he sat by the fence and you mesmerized him with your eyes, and you slowly walked up to him… and then gave him a kiss on each side of his furry face! I think I knew then I needed to accept I now had an outdoor cat. Thank you for that Sweet P., you chose well.
You were my little “Ambassador”. Anyone and everyone who came to Our Treehouse you greeted at the door with your royal and kind presence. My all-inclusive, wise, teacher. So fun with all my grand babies, you made us all laugh as you played with your cat toys. Always so confident with who you were, simply Petey, living in the moment, never even thinking of holding a grudge for something that may have happened yesterday, never worried about the future.
Now you have transformed and I wonder where you are and what you are doing. Yet I know somehow you are still here. I see the fresh mound of dirt as I look out my arch window, and I begin to cry again. Grief can be ruthless, yet I understand I need to carry this cup of sorrow around with me for awhile, and sip from it every now and then. It is how one gets through the heartache. Allow it to flow through me and around me. Then in my mind I am back on St. Joe Hill and in my imagination I see the sun rise slowly in that eastern valley. We all stand in awe and set our cups down on the ground for a moment. The Light burst forth and fills us with such Love. And we understand we are all here now, no matter what form we are in, all connected. It is all Life.
P.S. I love this photo of you. I took it about a year ago, my sweet, handsome boy.
c Love, Joan
Thank you for sharing Petey with us. He was such a special boy and I will miss him too.
Thank you beautiful Girl! You love our cat family as much as I do!
Wow, Joan–so beautiful there are really no adequate words. The image of sipping a cup of grief in a sacred place is sooo healing! I have a soul sister, Cindy, in my life since I was 12, whose Dad, Rollo made his transition yesterday, too. I hope to share this with Cindy, as a way to process her grief.
I stay with you in a pocket near your heart, dear Joan.
Love and Hugs, Vicky
Thank you beautiful Lady! I will be praying for Cindy. I love you.
Such beautiful words about a beautiful creature that brought so much joy to you for many years & vise versa. I can say Joan that I understand this pain all too well. Petey will always be with you, I bet he still takes his place at the foot of yur bed always with you. He loved his person & he was so blessed as were you❤️🙏 one day Jesus will hand him to you again
Thank you beautiful Lady! Hugs to your two cat-girls!
So beautiful Joan! I will miss Petey, was a special boy 🐾❤️🐾
Thank you beautiful Lady! It will seem so funny without him here in Our Treehouse for our family gatherings.
Thank you so much for sharing this beautiful tribute to your beautiful boy, Petey. Tears came to my eyes the moment I saw his picture, and was reminded of the sweetness of his essence and the wisdom in his eyes.
Your tribute to him was so touching, and I loved your references to sipping from the cup of grief as well as the sunrise pouring forth that connects us all in love — so true, and so touching.
I will miss Sweet Pete, especially the next time I come to visit when he won’t be there to greet me on the front sidewalk as the little Ambassador that he always was. And I will miss him not jumping up on my bed and insisting that I pet him and pay homage to his specialness.
But I know he will live on in your heart and in the ethers around your beautiful treehouse, as well as in the hearts of all he touched — including Reddogg and Pan, to whom he has now passed the baton of continuing to love you through their physical presence in your life.
Bless your sweet heart, Sweet P, and thank you for a life well lived. May you rest in peace. 💖
Joan, Grace said it perfectly. And yes, he will live in your heart forever.
Yes! So great, the memories.
Thank you beautiful Lady! he loved his Auntie Grace!
My heart aches for your loss, Joan. Even though I had never met Sweet P in person he will always be special to me. His spirit lives on and in your wonderful book too about him. Your book will continue to give joy to children for numerous reasons. RIP Sweet P. Love you beautiful and special lady.
Thank you beautiful Lady! Your artistic talents made him shine in our little children’s book!
Thank you beautiful Lady for your words and your memories for Sweet Petey.
I’m so sorry to hear of Petey’s passing. He will be greatly missed by all of us that got to know him. Not too many cats get to become boat cats. I’ll keep you in my prayers. Love you!
Hey Steve! Yes, you remember seeing him on the boat!
Blessings to you my dear Joan. I agree with you, we all carry a cup of grief and I love how you honor your grief and allow it to flow. I am sorry for your loss of Petey, your wonderful cat. May your memories of the love and laughter help you heal your grief in some small ways. Love and blessings to you my friend.
Thank you Rev. Rick! I know you understand. Love and Blessings back to you!
Great memories on St Joe Hill with you and Our Creator! You know I share your sorrow having buried my 3 elder kitties all within the last 3 years…. Francisco, Jacinta and Lucia 💔💔💔 and now Petey are buddies with them. God’s grace and peace be upon you Beautiful Lady and friend. I love you 😘
Thank you beautiful Lady for you and the great memories!