To lose a pet is hard. People that are real animal people know what I mean. I've been one of those folks who say they'll get a 'replacement pet'--every animal is different, just like a human. Replacement pet is wrong verbiage. If that's the case, I've had a lot of 'replacement men."
Perry, who I called My One had his own personality going on. When I took him to the vet for the first time,when he was a kitten, to get him checked out--the vet even smiled and said "You going to love his disposition." By that time, Perry had run all over the office, hid under bags of food, hollered at me and swiped the vet. Ha! When it gets closer to Christmas, I'll repeat the story of how Perry beat up Santa Claus. Santa needed a first aide kit...
Perry let the rest of the cats know I was his. He'd share me some, yet when it came to sleeping arrangements, he was on the pillow next to me. He was the only one who could pet my head and hair--with his claws out. Perry would be right on top of me--it's funny, his heir apparent, Noir would sleep on the other side of me--almost equal to Perry's distance. I think they fought over me--in their mancat way.
I buried Perry under the crepe myrtle tree like I said I would. One of my rose bushes had a single rose, so that and some white flowers pretty up Perry's grave. It was hard to put Perry in there. I had him wrapped in a towel, so he could be close to me and then a bag, for my false sense of keeping the elements out. When I bought this house, in 2008, I thought I have a pretty place to put my pets--I just didn't think it would be so soon.
Perry feels better now. I ask what could I have done differently? He was sick, I know--so the reaction to the antibiotics didn't help. Perry was only nine years old--I just knew we were going to be together for more years.
And in my spirit, he will be.