Bukey the Cat (R.I.P.)

when you adopt an animal from the humane society they have you sign a form basically saying you take full responsibility for this life you’re bringing into your home and you better not fuck up or else. i do take better care of bukey than myself. i care more about her than my ownself. that’s why her going blind has upset me worse than either of my two divorces. it’s why i bawled like a little baby for three hours straight the other day after she slipped off the bed and hurt her back (she’s all better now). she is my true soulmate so i care more about her than anything else in this world. that leona helmsley who left 12 mil to her dog and nothing to her grandkids? that is cool. that dog of hers loved her more than anyone else on the planet and she knew that and did the right thing. they say a lot of old folks give all their money, or a part of it, to their beloved pets. i’m right on with that.

howie

p.s. bukey’s on my lap right now.

**************

Dear Robert:

Ah fuck, Death again.
Death at the end of every sentence, built into every heart.

The social scientists will never admit that losing a pet is worse than losing a human, too many people would be surprised and insulted to discover they will be missed far less than a dog or cat. Yet it’s true. If I had my way, the pets I loved dearly would be living on elsewhere and those humans that broke my heart would be put to sleep. That seems fair. Fairer than this.

When we first meet those animals that become our pets, we immediately forget their bodies, so perfectly matched to their souls, will give out long before our love for them. For this reason, no matter how old we get, the death of a pet will always be a crime.

I’ll spare you the jack-assed line of the professional eulogist (“I didn’t know ____ personally...”) I knew Bukey (though pronounced BOO-key her name sounds like “BYOO-key” in my bullet head) and how special she was. I read about her antics for over a decade. Her feline indifference to being a sort-of AHA mascot lended credibility to the writing since no matter how many people didn’t write in with comments, she was always first to ignore the words and instead eat pizza.

Bukey threw me for a loop by eating human food, and when I informed you cats have no taste receptors for sweetness you posted pictures of her destroying a full box of Krispy Kremes. Ha ha ha.

Right now you’re legally insane. Love does this and so must grief. You will find your way through the maze.

Bukey was a beautiful girl who lived a long, full, happy life. She couldn’t have had a better owner.

Neither could you.

In loving memory.

Eulogy without passion

Looks like I’ll get to see my one friend in the State of Florida after all for a burger and rant.  Tonight I’ll visit the old man and check up on him, if he’s up for it.

My family has rarely been a burden on me, the opposite is the norm.

I can only be envious, not jealous, of my Aunt’s death yestermorn because all living things die, even zombies.

Auntie lived in New York most of her life.  She was a beauty back in her day and the most emotional member of my father’s family.  She also held grudges and stored tremendous anger, especially over her divorce (to an asshole) decades ago.  Towards the end  of her life, despite horrible recurring cancers, I  felt she’d managed to find a measure of peace.  She leaves behind a beautiful daughter who rides horses;  Elle is the only cousin I know at all.

I don’t remember Auntie with anything like love but I’m glad she’s no longer in pain, a  clichéd statement but damned true.

I put in a word with my spiritual teacher to assist her in the bardo (the “world between worlds” which is a reflection of the soul’s mind).  Maybe he can, I dunno.  It could all be bullshit and God could be a dope-smoking Rasta.