Buddy

In the event you are unfamiliar with him, let me re-introduce you to one of my fur-balls, Acro.  He is usually less independent than his sister.  He loves belly rubs and chasing hair ties.. actually he enjoys playing fetch with hair ties.  He is 4 years old, and a total house cat.  Living in Colorado, the though of having outdoor cats frightened me as you never really never know what wildlife might be out there - bears, coyotes, mountain lions.  He is a very loving cat, but also a very scared-y cat.  He can run from his own shadow.

Perhaps his ears were ringing... he just pranced into the kitchen as I type about him.  Acro, is my buddy.  At least, it's an affectionate name I have given him.  He will sit in my lap for non-stop pets.  His purr is soft and subtle.  His love bites are charming.  His meow can be one of the most entertaining things to listen to.  From his non-stop meow-meow-meow "I'm hungry", to his "I'm playing" purr-durr, to his low growl "I got the (fake) mouse.  It's mine!".  He will "love" on everything that is around when he wants attention, by stroking his head against it.  The table legs.  The fridge.  The wall.  And yes of course, our legs.

Sometime in 2013, probably in December, I was taking care of Preston and I called him buddy.  As soon as the words came out of my mouth, it felt weird.  I thought of taking it back, but soon enough, I was saying it all the time and it became one of my nicknames for Preston.  Without meaning to, while Preston was around, my cats got neglected.  Less pets.  Less cuddling by the fire.  Less belly rubs.  They would however often come hang out with Preston and I when I would rock him in his nursery.  They never tried to jump in his crib which I must be honest, is something I feared all the time.

After Preston passed, there came a day where I was in a better place and uttered "hi buddy" to Acro.  I cried.  And cried.  And cried some more.  The guilt of sharing the "buddy" name got to me so intensely.  I'd felt it the first several times I used it with Preston in place of Acro.  But this guilt... it was intolerable.  It drove me nuts for quite a while.  And then it got better.  Every time I now call Acro "buddy" it makes me smile and reminds me of when I would call Preston the same.

In similar fashion, I've felt guilt in relation to Acro and Preston.  Since bringing Preston's ashes home, I've kept two of his blankets and a onesie by his urn on our dresser.  The first time I saw that Acro had slept on his blankets and onesie, I flipped out.  It would take away the scent of Preston that still permeated the items.  Acro's hair would "soil" these keepsakes.  I started leaving something on his things so that Acro couldn't just sleep there.  Things like sunglasses.  He eventually found his way back to those blankets.  His persistence eventually turned my grief into a mysterious feeling.  What if he just wanted to be close to Preston?  Or what if it was Preston's way of saying, "Mama, I'm still nearby"?  Or what if it's just a cat wanting a comfy spot? Right, I know.  Logically, I know that it's probably the latter.  However, my mind sometimes needs to believe the other possibilities.  It needs to consider that it could be Preston or God sending me a sign.

I no longer feel anger toward my cat for leaving hair on Preston's things, even though I'm a little bit sad every time I see the black cat hairs clinged to his onesie.  I no longer feel guilt for allowing our cat to rest by Preston.  I no longer feel guilt when I call my cat "buddy", a nickname that I gave him in the first place.

Guilt can come from unusual places.  As hard as it is to believe, this type of guilt will go away.  Don't let it keep you down.  Breakaway from the guilt and be free.


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