Saying Goodbye

I'm not an intimate person. I don't especially enjoy hugs, except from my "inner circle" of my mom, dad, and brother. I keep a solid bubble around me at all times, psychically and emotionally.

Some may say that's a sad way to live one's life. "You're missing so much, the wonderful roller coaster ride that is true love." "You're missing so many amazing experiences, all because you're afraid you'll get hurt!" I can barely get over the pain of losing my favorite ten-cent Bic pen, and I'm supposed to be okay with a man showing me love and then taking it away again?

To fill the void of "other-ness" in my life, I have pets. Lincoln is my little buffalo of a cat, Trumie is my little silly-monkey Dachshund, and Ellie Bean was my sweet, sweet black purr-bucket.

For the two years that our family was complete, I felt like Lincoln enjoyed me, Trumie needed me, and Ellie truly wanted me. Wherever I went, Ellie Bean was on my heels. She treasured our Mom-and-me time whenever I was in the restroom. She loved having alone time with me (neither of the other fur babies were hardy enough to follow me into the restroom). Whenever I took a bath, she sat on the edge of the tub and dangled her tail in the warm water. She occasionally slipped, giving her hind end a dousing. Despite being sopping wet and desperate to get out of the tub, she never scratched me, my vulnerable skin lying inches away from her frantic feet scrambling for purchase against the porcelin.

She had it tough in the beginning. For the first few months of her life, she lived as bribary with a young, single mother and her child who can only be described as a serial-murderer-in-the-making. To get the child to sleep in his own bed at night, she got him a kitten. The young mother fed Ellie (known simply as "Black Cat" to them) dry kibble from the dollar store. She had a plastic cat box full of litter that I wouldn't use to gain tire traction in a snow storm.

The young mother would tell her coworkers stories of the funny things the son did to the kitty - locked her in the toy box, put her in the toilet and closed the lid, pulled her tail...Finally I said, "I'll take her."

Those three words gave me two years of joy watching the kitty flourish into a sweet, gentle soul with a luxurious black coat that Lincoln occasionally helped clean.

We all know that life is a zero-sum game. You start with zero, you accrue, you lose, you build, you gamble, and no matter how successful you are, you will always end back at zero. So what do you have to show for your journey on Earth?

Feelings, I guess. And Ellie Bean gave me feelings of pride, happiness, and love.

I miss you, Bean.