When I was a kid our family had many pets. Over the course of my childhood we had two cats, two dogs, four doves, two zebra finches, one canary, several fish, and one leopard gecko. All of them passed away years ago.
Probably the hardest loss for us was our last surviving pet, a white American shorthair cat we called Snowflake (or "Snowy" for short). We adopted him around Christmas time, and he lived with us for about fifteen years. Indeed, he managed to outlive many of our other pets, despite being adopted earlier. He had the best disposition for a cat that I have ever seen. He was constantly purring, and he would frequently rub against your leg and sit on your lap. He would even run up to greet you when you pulled up into the driveway.
One morning however my mother roused me with shocking news: Snowflake had been literally torn in half by a wild animal (most likely a raccoon) during the night. The head was missing, and the only way you could tell that it was the cat's remains was the tufts of white fur scattered about. To be taken from us so suddenly and violently like that made coping particularly hard. After a decade and a half of living with us, we really came to regard him as one of the family.
In the end though it might have been for the best, at least in the long run. During his final days the first signs of old age were beginning to form. He was starting to become slow and arthritic and often had to be helped onto our laps. It might have been more heartbreaking to watch him slowly succumb to age than what actually happened. Still, losing a beloved pet is never easy, particularly when it's one like Snowflake.
Probably the hardest loss for us was our last surviving pet, a white American shorthair cat we called Snowflake (or "Snowy" for short). We adopted him around Christmas time, and he lived with us for about fifteen years. Indeed, he managed to outlive many of our other pets, despite being adopted earlier. He had the best disposition for a cat that I have ever seen. He was constantly purring, and he would frequently rub against your leg and sit on your lap. He would even run up to greet you when you pulled up into the driveway.
One morning however my mother roused me with shocking news: Snowflake had been literally torn in half by a wild animal (most likely a raccoon) during the night. The head was missing, and the only way you could tell that it was the cat's remains was the tufts of white fur scattered about. To be taken from us so suddenly and violently like that made coping particularly hard. After a decade and a half of living with us, we really came to regard him as one of the family.
In the end though it might have been for the best, at least in the long run. During his final days the first signs of old age were beginning to form. He was starting to become slow and arthritic and often had to be helped onto our laps. It might have been more heartbreaking to watch him slowly succumb to age than what actually happened. Still, losing a beloved pet is never easy, particularly when it's one like Snowflake.
