This is a hard post to write because I know it will be difficult for some to read, and I’m sorry for that.
Last Monday, TB died. The Beast. My beautiful boy. The one who demanded to be allowed to love him. The one who tortured me every day (he was a brat). The one who did everything with me. The one who was with me when I re-started my life.
One October afternoon in 2011, a tiny tuxedo cat showed up at the cabin meowing for my attention. The last thing I needed in my life was a cat, and besides, there was a large colony of feral cats in the area. I went to Omaha for a few days to deal with things before I got busy with my master’s degree. When I returned to the cabin on Saturday afternoon, the cat was still around, and insisted on being acknowledged.
I opened the front porch, knowing that as it got colder, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if (s)he was left outside, so in this little soul walked, and when I opened the door to the main cabin, the cat took over. Flea-ridden, hungry, the whole thing. This cat was mine. I didn’t care about the fleas. After a bath, I held him close as we slept. We bonded right away.
We call our cabin Bell’s Dell. (Yep, Bellingwood – Bell’s Dell and Greenwood – now you know). Since my vet was unable to ‘sex’ the cat, we assumed it was female. Name? TB – The Belle of Bell’s Dell. A week later, we changed that to TB – The Beast of Bell’s Dell. A legend (in my mind and in his) was now my best friend.
TB, for as much as he wanted to be safe with me, loved wandering the hills and dales on our land. He took my heart with him every time. Sometimes he didn’t come home until late, scaring me to death. I have a few friends who spent time with me praying that boy home. The end to his travels came four years later when the kittens arrived. I couldn’t manage worrying about three animals outside. They loved the screened-in front porch.
When I started my degree, then my first book, it was TB who inspired me, stirred me, kept me loved, tortured me (did I say he was a brat?), curled up next to me, and taught me about patience. My logo is a representation of that boy and always will be.
Through everything I’ve dealt with, TB has been steadfast (never failed at being a love and a brat at the same time). He’s been failing physically since Christmas. I watched and cared for him, knowing that we only had a short time left. He got worse the last couple of weeks. Sunday night, I held him as we slept together, promising that the next day, I’d make sure he got to heaven. Monday, he’d given up. How could he not? His body was giving out. I got one last gift from him, though. He hooked a claw into my hand and will have left me with one final mark. True to form.
I’ll miss him, but am grateful for the years we had and the things we did together. I’ve had animals all my life, but TB was special. He taught me about partnering with animals, not just caring for them.
