Pumpkin
2005 – February 26, 2020
Rest in Peace
How do we ever say goodbye to a friend?
I first met Pumpkin when I moved here, about 13-1/2 years ago. He was at least one year old, handsome, leonine. His orange coat, whether thick and luxurious in winter or in a lighter summer length, was always immaculately groomed. He was out most days, and in the next door family’s garage at night. He took no sass from anyone – cat, dog, or human, and ran the neighborhood. I called him The Mayor.
Two fearless creatures – Pumpkin and a young praying mantis.
Whatever had happened to Pumpkin prior to my arrival resulted in his being somewhat aggressive when handled, except for being petted around the head. He showed he cared in other ways, but the expression of affection was strictly on his terms.
With his beautiful coat in its long-haired glory.
Because I worked from home, he and I became better and better buddies, especially after his sidekick, Cloudy, died two years earlier. And in the last 4-5 months, even more so.
He had always come with me to get the mail; slept under or on my car for shade or warmth, depending on the season, at my various doors following the warmth of the sun; and kept me company when I was outdoors. But now he stayed close whenever he was allowed outside. His health began to decline, his quality of life to diminish. Once defensive about being touched, Pumpkin now began to relish the attention.
Pumpkin trusting, relaxed, and sound asleep just outside my office door.
Last Wednesday, my neighbor told me she’d made an appointment to have him put to sleep. This just crushed me, but I was grateful to not only be able to go along, but to hold him in my arms in his last moments on earth. After all these years – and for just this one time – I gave Pumpkin a kiss on the forehead.
Sweet dreams, little one. You were loved.
Still A Dreamer 