Our Chunky Boy

It’s crazy how we have those days in life when the world seems to stop on its axis. Nothing else matters or is happening other than the crisis in front of you. Those days you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. For me, all of those days were ones in which my loved ones were in jeopardy. Health scares or safety concerns for my parents or my pets. Those beings that are so much a part of your soul — a piece of you belongs to them.

Today felt like one of those days. People who haven’t known the love of a pet probably won’t be able to understand. “It’s just a cat” they might say. Those are not my kind of people. Anyone in my life would tell you — animals are my people.

It was just over a year ago that we had to say goodbye to my Bella Girl — one of the most heartbreaking days of my life. And today, we are faced with the same prospect for our sweet Chunky Boy.

Chunky came into our lives only a couple of years ago but it feels like he’s been with us forever. He’s an older gentleman cat we took in when his owner wasn’t able to care for him anymore and he immediately became part of our family (much to Bella’s dismay).

The Chunkster and Dad bonded right away. Best friends — the son he never had. My Dad has always loved animals but there is something about this little dude… they just clicked. “The guys” sleep together, watch tv together, and have full-on conversations with each other. Chunkers always has a lot to say. He’ll let you know when he’s hungry when he’s awoken from his nap and basically just announce his entrance into any room.

I couldn’t imagine getting through the loss of my Bella without him. He never fails to make us laugh. A professional sleeper I sometimes have to shake him awake just to make sure he’s breathing. He makes quite the spectacle of his naps and makes it almost impossible not to curl up and join him.

He has brought so much light, love, and happiness into our lives. I mean we revolve around this guy. Mom comes over calling his name; we always make a point to see where he is or what he’s doing. Knowing he’s snoozing next to me when I’m working, listening to his conversation with Dad downstairs, and scooping him up to cuddle for naps and TV time bring me a joy I can’t even put into words.

His favorite past times include the aforementioned sleeping — especially by the fire and/or in the sun, eating, cuddling with his toys or shoving them in his belly, hitting golf balls (I told you he was my Dad’s son), talking, looking out the window, and morning skritches with Dad. It’s amazing how these little creatures capture our hearts, count on us to care for them, and provide absolute unconditional love.

That’s why it’s so heartwrenching to think about losing them. That constant, loving, and silly companion just gone from your life. We’ve been through it enough and we need him around longer. Here’s hoping with all the prayers and wishes and vibes and visualizations in the world, that he pulls through to meow many, many more days.

And here we are nearly a month later. Chunk has been through a ton in the past few weeks. My sweet handsome little man has had up and downs. Days when he was back to himself, were followed by discouraging ones. I need to know that we tried everything we could. If it’s his time, if his body is tired, if he’s ready — then I so wish nature would take its course and absolve us from this excruciating decision.

I do believe in miracles and want to give our boy every chance possible to rally from this.

It’s been such a heavy month. A high school friend lost her husband, another friend's family dealing with a cancer diagnosis, and a family I spent much of my childhood with lost their matriarch. So many people dealing with so much loss, and their lives changing forever.

And yet life goes on. It’s insane to think about. Your world feels like it imploded all while others are carrying on as if nothing has changed. My heart goes out to anyone dealing with a loss, no matter how big or small others might think it may be.

Here’s hoping for light, love, health, and healing for us all. Here’s hoping for miracles.

And now a little over a week later, we said goodbye to our beautiful boy. He spent part of his last night with us by the fire — one of his favorite spots. He slept with Dad and spent the morning lying out in the yard with Mom and me. It was a beautiful day and he had the sun on his face and the wind in his fur. Cuddled on his favorite blanket with me spooning him just how we like it.

Our vet said it was time and that we’d done everything we could for him. She sat outside with all of us, hugging me, and petting him. She said that this was the most loving and caring thing for us to do for him now. She said that he has been fighting hard and his body is ready to be at peace. Just as one of my friends told me — listen to what Chunky’s little body and soul are telling him (and you).

I already miss the feel of him, the smell of him. I crave cuddling with him, hugging him, ok — smothering him, and nuzzling his head. I’m looking for him in all of his favorite spots, doing a double take at shadows, and thinking I hear him in the next room. He made our house a home; he helped us cope with life and enjoy life. He made us smile, and laugh and filled us with so much love and pure, pure joy.

Just as I told Bella a little over a year ago, I told Chunky how much we love him. How much we loved having him and thanked him for being the bestest boy. I told him that he’s ok, to have so much fun in heaven, to know that we’ll be ok, that we’ll miss him so much, and that we’ll see him again someday.

My Bella Girl better have been more welcoming to him today than she was the first time around. I know they’re up there together, with all of our other fur babies that came before them — happy and healthy. My kids, my family — their innocent souls, their quirky personalities, their unabated unconditional love.

So, today was one of those devastating, world-altering days. As I sit here clutching Chunk’s favorite toy and feeling completely broken and hollow, I’m so grateful we had him in our lives. I find comfort in knowing he’s back to himself, strutting his stuff in heaven and that someday I’ll be the big spoon with him again.

When Bella passed, my friends got me the book: When You Love a Cat by M.H. Clark.

“When you love a cat… The space on your lap is taken. And the space in your heart is, too. And the daily routines are silly and simple and beautiful, and somehow, each small moment grows bigger. So the days come to mean much more. When you love a cat, you share it all — the gray days and the light. And that’s more than enough. It’s everything — to have something so simple and right.”

We cherished you Chunky Monkey, and we’ll always be with you — forever.