So for those who know me, you know my little black cat was named Pepper. You probably also know that I lost her last week-end. A horrible disease for cats called FIP (Feline Infectious Peritonitis) took this precious fur-baby in a matter of three days.
The hole in my heart is huge with the loss of little Pepper. While I was at Mass the other morning, it occurred to me why the loss of Pepper is so profound. Pepper was quite radiant you see. And when my little household lost her, we also lost her bright vibrancy.
Wait a second, you are saying to yourself, she was a cat. Yes, she was. But, let me explain about this cat. To begin with, Pepper never meowed, Pepper squeaked. And she squeaked a lot. She was the tiny, black nymph who could bound around the house in bold streaks of light. She was not about to sit still, there was just too much in life to see.
When I would get out of bed, my feet barely touching the floor, she would start squeaking, very excited like. I always imagined that her squeaks were saying things like “Get up, get up everyone! Mom’s up! The sun’s up! There are birds to watch, squirrels to chase! Time for treats! Come on Mom! Let’s go, let’s go!”
I would lumber out of bed and get dressed first. She never got her morning treats until I was dressed, though that didn’t stop her from trying. She would race into the bedroom, squeaking and squeaking and then race into the kitchen. What, no Mom yet? She would race back to bedroom squeaking “Come on, COME ON MOM!”
Finally I would start to head into the kitchen, usually saying “Ok, let’s go.” And she would be off, so excited that our day was underway.
But, this excitement over life wasn’t just when I got up. It was when I came home, when I moved to another room, when we went to bed “Me first, me first, I get to sleep on Mom first” I think she was squeaking to her sister.
Little Pepper had two speeds, asleep and full speed ahead. But, don’t think she didn’t like to curl up and get cozy as well. She did, it just was always on her terms.
No wonder she left such a large hole when we had to say good-bye. You see, I think she was very radiant. She lived life large. She was vibrant. It is in the quiet of the house that I realize what truly a bright light she was for me. I will miss that little light, but I am so grateful that I was able to experience her radiance.
I can only hope that I can be the bright light for others each day, the way Pepper was for me….
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