For Jeter...with love

How do you say goodbye to a friend?

Well, here is my probably very poor attempt.

I still can't believe he's gone. It's been 24 hours since he died, and I feel more than a little lost. I physically hurt from all the sobbing I've done. I know Yogi is absolutely confused. He keeps wandering around the house..and comes back to me with this look of "Well--where are you hiding him?" Poor Yogi, he's never been alone at any time in his life...

Jeter Bean, the little furry light in my life. Five years was not nearly enough of you. Yes, he was a cat, but he was also the closest relationship I think I've ever had with another living thing. Was it perfect? Um. No. We fought (trust me), I yelled, he yelled--but we always made up. One look in those big green eyes could melt me, if he wanted it to. If he was still mad--they would be shooting daggers at me.

He picked me--something I don't think anyone had done before or since. Wandered up to my house and made himself right at home, like he knew something I didn't. That first year was non stop vet trips--and vet bills--but I made him promise that he would be around for a long time. Long enough so I could get him to a big house with a yard and a screened in porch that he could take control of, see my children born and be part of their lives, too.

He promised.

Or so I thought.

He was also good at changing the subject, so maybe he didn't, but I'm going to say he did.

But I still feel like I let him down--he did love to go outside so that porch idea was something he would have  held me to.

Sorry buddy, I didn't know you had a time line.

Looking back, he probably didn't feel that great Wednesday night. I got home after work at midnight, cleaned up the throw up on the floor (that I wrongly thought was Yogi's), and crawled in to bed. He came in with me, curled up under the covers and put his paws around my neck. He was cold.

I had no idea that this meant his kidneys were shutting down.

I had no idea that these would be my last few happy moments with you--not full of fear and panic and guilt and pain. So, I snuggled you in, kissed the top of your head, turned off the light and said four words I've said almost every night for the last five and half years "Good night, Jeter Bean". You curled up even tighter and closed your eyes.

You looked exactly the same way after you died.

Which just breaks my heart.

I've told people jokingly that Jeter was my soul mate. Okay--that wasn't a joke, actually. He made me a better person because I loved him so selflessly. He was one of my best friends and I will miss him for a long, long time.

The rest of my life, actually.

I love you Jeter--thank you for being one of the best parts of my life. It's going to be a good long while, but we'll see each other again.

This time, I promise.