Beasley as a kitten, taken in 1998.
It's still hard to accept that he's gone and that I won't see him again.
There's a zen saying that 'when the student is ready, the teacher will appear.'
I thought I was at least ready to start being taught and I kept wondering if there would ever be a teacher.
In reality, I would never have been able to trust a human teacher. I would have always been expecting him to lie to me, or try to manipulate my emotions or con money out of me. I guess that's what my exposure to Christian fundamentalism left me with.
Beasley, on the other hand, taught without teaching. When he was hungry, he ate and when he was tired, he slept. He had a mind free of all but the most primitive concepts. He could spend a whole day sitting in a chair. Things didn't bother him because he had no awareness of them, nor did he need to have awareness of them. There were many times I would find him sleeping on my bed or on the front porch and think, "That is all I want in my life - to just sit like the cat and be there."
After I started making him stay inside a few weeks ago, and when I was still laid low by the effects of the tick bite, we spent a lot of time together. It was a lot like when we were in Texas, and it was just Beasley, Smudge and me, without all the other cats and occasional dogs around. I'm glad now we had that time.
He had seemed to be very content with being put back on full-time indoor cat status - at least until the past few days, when he started agitating to go out again.
Nothing is permanent; everything is temporary. The glass, as Ajahn Chah taught, is already broken.
Forgive me if this seems maudlin, but it still seems unbelievable he's gone. This house will not be the same without him.
Probably about 2003.
Beasley with the immortal Buddy Lee,
probably about 2004.
I wish I had more recent pictures of him,
although he didn't look much different
than he does here.
probably about 2004.
I wish I had more recent pictures of him,
although he didn't look much different
than he does here.
I should also mention that based upon what I was told by the neighbor who found him this morning, Beasley may have just had heart failure or an aneurysm. It looks like he was just walking along the sidewalk and suddenly keeled over.
5 comments:
THE NINTH LIFE
There is a clanging out my window
A chain against a pole
But the sound resounds and reminds me yet
Of an iron church bell’s toll
And a funeral in passing
With mourners all in tow
As the peal repeals and fades away
With a whisperance of woe
But ’tis only subtle fancy
For a spirit travels light
And the growth regrows in a world made whole
In endless day and night
So I know that we alone
Note the vibrancy gone flat
For how could a town be so disposed
To mourn the passing of a cat?
—Lance Pierce
My friend wrote this for me the night my cat Sophie died.
These events leave big emptiness...and not the good kind of emptiness.
Thank you for the poem.
I'm so sorry for your loss, MCARP. I know your sadness, I still feel it for my Benjamin and I still say to myself, "if I had... maybe he would"
Nothing replaces those special cats that come into our lives.
Hugs and tears for you.
Mindovermary
I'm sorry about little Beasley. My Pogo was the same way. It's like all your experiences and parts of you are balled up in in that fluffy extension of self and when that's gone, you realize how much you've relied on that companionship through those times. Maybe that's why it's a turning point. Maybe it could also be a laying to rest of all that turmoil?
You have our deepest sympathy.
Suzanne & Bucky
Post a Comment