I adore my cat.

Levi is the most cuddly, playful bundle of furry personality I could ask for. He welcomes me home by rolling on the floor, which can either be interpreted as an invitation to join him or to pick him up and carry him around while he purrs. He hops into my lap at every opportunity, rubs against my legs, and has to be in the same room I am in at all times. But he also likes to play "find the cat" games and loves to sit in various hiding places while I go looking for him. He is also very inconsistent with his toys. One day he loves the wool mouse, the next, he ignores it and seems repulsed by its presence. Yesterday when batting a new mouse toy I'd brought home for him around the kitchen, he apparently lost it under the stove. I got on my knees with a flashlight, removed the bottom panel of the stove and found a collection of cat toys. I think I took about 6 dust-covered toy mice out of there. Ick.

I think part of why Levi is exceptionally cuddly lately is that he just has to sense that the other furry critter who lived with us all too briefly is now gone. Every day when the puppy Raya got to go to work with me, I'd deposit her into the house when we arrived home and Levi would greet us by rolling on the floor. He and Raya would sniff each other and sometimes the chase would commence. I'll never forget the times Levi would leap over Raya's head to hop up onto the counter in the laundry room, and Raya would bark. Her puppy bark was so cute.

These are things I'd much rather think about than her last few days.

I received a sympathy card from Oregon Specialty Veterinary Hospital. On the back was the schedule for Dove Lewis' pet loss support group meetings. I called to verify the dates, and received a call back from Enid. Today there's a wonderful article in the Oregonian about her. What a wonderful resource Dove Lewis is to help people deal with what many people think should be something you just "get over" by adopting another pet. I'm here to tell you, it's not that simple. It's a process you must go through. Forgive yourself, deal with the guilt, the sadness, the anger. Then you need to replace the images of the pet's last days with those of happier times. You don't want to remember how a pet dies, but rather, how they lived. We do this with humans, so why not for our animal companions? It makes perfect sense to me.

So I'm not ready yet to find another dog. I don't think I was really meant to have one yet, even though I have no doubt that I was meant to take care of Raya during her short life. The next dog will find me, when it's time. Until then, I plan to live my life the way dogs do - in the moment.