Little Bit died of old age. He lived a long, happy life and brought me great pleasure. He was mostly an outdoor dog. He loved being the guardian of our back yard. But time took its toll. He began to lose his hearing and he became very arthritic. However, he never complained. I moan and groan when I’m not feeling well. Not Little Bit. He always wore a brave face and displayed a cheery disposition.
We also had an outdoor cat, Liberty. She was a maverick from the day she was born. She did not enjoy being around people. She insisted on keeping her distance. I never understood this but we accommodated her rigid independence. I left her food and water each day on the patio, but she would not appear to eat until I was back in the house. As she and Little Bit grew old, they developed a kind of sibling rivalry. He was mostly the aggressor. He would eat her food and chase her around the yard.
They never showed any apparent affection for each other. That is until Little Bit died on Valentine’s Day. He had been very low for a few days and I noticed her nuzzling him as if she were comforting him. On the day he died, I saw her watching from a distance as I carried him, wrapped in his favorite blanket, to a patch of daffodils in the back yard. As I began to dig a grave for him, she crept up to within 20 feet, laid down and watched. When I completed his burial, I walked into the house and watched out a window. Liberty got up and slowly walked to the little mound and lay down upon it. She stayed there much of the day. It was a touching sight — her somber vigil.
In following days she was listless. She would not eat. She seemed depressed. She appeared to be mourning. I felt guilty for the benign neglect I had displayed toward Liberty all her life. So I began to try to console her. I began to touch her and to my surprise, she did not flee from me anymore. I would caress her when she came to eat. Eventually she started to come to me when I called.
My wife, Judy, and I began to worry about her as she entered the autumn of her life. So we set out to bring her indoors. This, despite having two indoor cats. Well, I can tell you that was no easy feat. At first it was constant growling and hissing. Herbert, the largest cat, turned out to be a bully. Gavin, the smallest, was mostly curious but this was threatening to Liberty also. However, after a few weeks an accommodation among all parties was reached. They became friends and she became an indoor cat.
Gavin is no longer with us and Herbert is old and ill. He is quiet and reclusive now. Liberty tends and nurtures him in his time of weakness. She is incredibly affectionate toward me. Whenever I sit down she climbs into my lap. When I work at the computer she lies down beside my hand at the mouse. When I don’t pay attention to her she stretches out on my keyboard and brings my work to a halt. We talk to and understand each other. Sometimes she is bossy. I can be cranky with her, too. She usually wins because of her persistence and she knows I love her so much that I’m eventually going to be a pushover.
When God made us creatures it was a stroke of divine genius to create a mix of the winged and the finned, feathered and scaly, two-legged and four-legged, furry and smooth. This mix is a joy to us and presumably to God. A friend told me recently in a reference to evolution, “I didn’t evolve from a frog.” I teased him, “Have you considered that you may be evolving into a frog?” He erupted in laughter … thank God! Let us love all creatures — great and small.
Harold Bales is an animal lover and a retired Methodist minister who lives in Kannapolis. Contact him at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .
