Speaking of Cats...

Tomorrow (May 7th) is the 2nd anniversary of my Bixby's death. I can't believe it's been two years already.

Bixby found me when I was 21 years old. He was a stray kitten (about 6 weeks old) that wandered up to my front door. I fed him and he came back. My partner Steve told me not to feed him and he'd find his way back home. I agreed, but I secretly didn't want him to find his way home. I wanted my home to be his home. So, without Steve knowing it, I took a bowl of food outside every night. I came home during my lunch breaks and fed him again. I was determined that this kitty would be mine some day. After a few days, Steve agreed that I could keep the kitty (did he really have a choice?).

Bixby lived with me throughout the next 17 years. He comforted me when Steve left, he stuck by me through a few other partners and lots of roommates. He was there with me when my Dad died, and when my niece and nephew were born. He lived in houses, apartments and lofts. He never complained when I brought dogs into the family. In fact, I think he enjoyed being the big brother. The dogs grew to be 10 times his size, but he was always in control and they always did their best to protect him.

Unfortunately, they couldn't help him on his last night. The dogs were in the house; Bix opted to stay outside and explore. I'm sure that if Betty had seen Bixby being attacked, she would've crawled over the fence to save him. Betty loved Bixby with all of her heart, and she's never really been the same since that morning. How do you explain it to a dog? I couldn't comprehend it myself.

To quote a line from the movie My Dog, Skip: "They said that they buried him in the backyard under the old oak tree. That's not entirely true. Actually, he's buried in my heart."

Bix-- I miss you, and I'm glad that we got to share so many adventures together!