A Different Kind Of Memorial...

It was the kids idea, at least, I think it was. It's been two weeks today since we lost one of our pets. After we covered up the grave, we gathered rocks and placed them on top. We then thought it would be a nice tribute to paint the rocks and replace them at the gravesite. 

Last week we cleared off the counter, brought in and washed the rocks, assembled paints and brushes, and got to work. My wife, youngest son, daughter and myself participated in our memorial activity. We had no rules--everyone could do what they wanted and put on the rocks what they wanted to say as a tribute. 

My daughter went with a colorful design on a black background. It's a sweet one.

My son used a "G" instead of the whole name. It's sweet as well.

My wife called the cat Princess Gracie, because that's exactly what she was, so that's what she painted on her rock. She also added patches of tan and black, because Gracie was white, tan, and black...a beautiful color combination.

I got to my rock a little late. In fact, it's not finished. And truth be told, none of the rocks are completely finished. We need to locate our shellac to protect the paint. If we had put these out after we painted them last week, the rain we've had almost every day would have removed our heartfelt messages.

There's no way a few rocks covered with paint and words can replace the loss we feel when we look around the house and notice she's no longer with us. But, in a small way, it helps. And that's what a memorial should, when all's said and done.

Gracie...20_ _(?) - 2019

Wednesday I made the call. Looking back, that was the hardest thing. Because once that call was made, the decision was final. Sure, we could have called and said we'd changed our minds, but the reality was this...now was the time.

Back in January 2012 we visited some neighbors. Outside their house was a cat. The neighbors love cats so we wondered why this one was outside in the middle of winter. Turns out this cat was a stray and they were feeding it, but not allowing it inside in case it turned out to be sick (they didn't want their animals to catch anything...). 

When I saw that cat, I wanted to rescue it. That's just what we did. We drove down and brought her home. Her name was Gracie.

Today, with tears and broken hearts, we buried Gracie in the yard.

I've only had one pet we had to put down. When I was thirteen I got a dog, Tasha, a shih tzu/little neighborhood dog mix. She was a great dog and lived seventeen years. When we put Tasha down, she was blind, deaf, and her back legs were paralyzed. It was definitely time. 

With Gracie, her physical downfall was much slower. In fact, ever since we brought her home more than seven years ago, she was unwell. In the last year, we noticed a dramatic change. She wasn't the same animal. She was losing weight and not making it to the litter box in time more often than not.

We tried everything the vets told us to do. She got steroid shots again and again. And they helped, but as the vet said, not as long as he would have liked. Turns out, not as long as we would have liked as well.

After months and months of deliberation and hours and hours of discussion, we came to the painful conclusion it was time. The last thing we wanted was for our friend to slowly decline to the point where her suffering went unnoticed. Her condition was inoperable--she would never get better. As her guardian and friend, we needed to do what was best for her. That's not always what we'd like.

Wednesday, I made the call setting up the appointment. Today, as my wife held our little beautiful friend, we said goodbye. We brought her home and buried her in the yard where she loved to explore, in a box we signed. We'll miss your little face and your sweet little spirit. Goodnight, Gracie. Until we meet again.