” The Thomas Story ”
I was drawn from the depths of slumber by the
unmistakable presence of my cat Thomas and a familiar odor
which was drifting into the room.
Poor Tom I sighed. Such a good cat. And always so mortified by
his “accidents”. Ever since illness had besieged him it was not
unusual for me to wake in the middle of the night and discover he had
missed his litter box again. Guess I’d better go take care of those
little puddles he’s left for me I thought.
As I propped myself up in bed my hand settled into the warm
indentation on the covers next to me where he had obviously been laying
only moments before. That was typical. From the onset of his health
problems he had always spent the night at my side. Twenty-five pounds
of dense orange and white fur; with one toe missing from his left hind
foot from the time he was bitten by a snapping turtle; big yellow eyes
always scanning the kitchen excitedly at dinner time. That was Tom.
I smiled to myself in the darkness. We’d been through so much
together since he’d gotten sick. The vertebrae infection with its
resulting partial paralysis; the furious fever that had left him
brain-damaged; the two surgeries when his colon had shut down.
Yes for awhile it seemed as though the problems would never end.
In fact Tom had gone to the veterinarian so often during the past
two years he didn’t even mind riding in the car anymore.
To be sure he was a real trooper and I staunchly admired him for it.
His unwavering courage never failed to amaze me.
I eased into my slippers knowing from experience that going into
the dimly lit kitchen barefoot after one of Tom’s “mistakes” could be
like entering an unmarked mine field. Moving carefully to the sink I
pulled some paper towels from their roll on the dispenser and turned to
face my challenge.
On the floor in the corner by the refrigerator I could see the
placemat with his bowl of water and dish of dry food. They were both
sitting half empty the food gone from the center and pushed to the
sides in the circular eating pattern that was so uniquely his. Under the
table the litter box was dug and mounded as only he could do working
with the imbalance from his missing toe. The food and water had been
full and the litter box untouched when I’d gone to bed. Tom must have
been up much longer than I thought I surmised.
But turning on the big overhead light brought reality to the
forefront. Even though the dishes and litter box showed absolute signs
of my cat and his scent still lingered distinctly in the air there
were no puddles on the floor no large purring body waiting patiently
for my attention. For Thomas had passed away two days earlier.
As I pulled out a chair from the table and sat down tears filling
my eyes I knew that Tom had come back one more time to give me comfort
and closure. He must have known what a struggle I was having accepting
he was gone. I wrestled with the sadness for several moments and
finally won. There in the kitchen his most favorite room my heart
said good-bye to the closest friend I had ever had.
I will never forget his final act of love. Even death could not
keep him from being there when I needed him. The incident proved to me
without a doubt that the Rainbow Bridge can span any element when it
wants to. And I will always treasure the closeness we shared in life as
much as I do the memory of what happened that night.
By Lynn Harper Stonestreet
| Thomas |