Four years ago, Jill and I had just been through a season of disappointment. We had hoped for a few things to pan out for us, both in terms of our careers and in our overall trajectory in life, and those things just didn't pan out. So, we decided to respond to our disappointment by acting on a (small) dream we'd had for a while: we adopted a cat from our local animal shelter.
Jill trolled the websites of various shelters for a few days until we saw exactly what we'd been looking for: an orange male tabby. It was important to me that we adopt a cat that sported the proper colors to cheer for the Texas Longhorns. We drove over to the shelter and met our new buddy - who turned out to be two things we didn't expect: rather large for a cat (14.4 lbs) and rather old (12 years). The shelter gave us a 'high mileage' discount on the price of adopting him.
Because he was large and old, we named him after a baseball player in the twilight of his career who also fit those traits: Griffey (for Ken Griffey Jr.). Griffey came home with us in the spring of 2010, lived in our tiny upstairs apartment in Tacoma, then moved with us to Colorado. We like to say that we gave him a really good retirment.
A few weeks ago, Griffey was losing weight and didn't have the same vitality or sparkle in his eyes. He didn't jump up on the couch and sit in our laps, and he was eating less food. After a visit to the vet (which he always loathed), we concluded that our little friend was getting closer to the end of his life. This was actually a good piece of news for Jill and I to settle on together because it allowed us to start making plans for the end of his life and how we'd go about saying goodbye.
Yes, I realize that I'm writing about a cat. And we certainly wouldn't ascribe the same level of value to Griffey's life as we would an actual human being, but still - he was our first pet and an important part of our lives. Just as bringing him into our lives brought us joy, we knew that saying goodbye to him would be a significant event.
When the time came to say goodbye, both Jill and I were clear-eyed and as ready as we could be. We called our friend, Dr. Bruce, to come over and help Griffey rest comfortably as the end came. Bruce did a wonderful job, and we're very grateful for his willingness to help us say goodbye.
Griffey passed away on Tuesday just before 3pm, resting comfortably on his (appropriately) burnt-orange blanket in our laundry room. As both Jill and I had experienced in our childhoods, we buried him in our backyard in a box and thanked God - the one who created all animals and all of our world - for his life and the friendship we'd enjoyed with him.
Will had just woken up from his nap as I was digging the hole to lay Griffey to rest. After he woke up, Jill brought him outside, and we talked with him for a little while about how Griffey was gone. Jill said to Will, "Say goodbye to Griffey." Will looked at the dirt, waved his little hand, and said, "Bye."
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