There’s many kinds of heartbreak. And while I haven’t suffered them all, I’ve twice suffered the kind that no matter what I do, I can’t take away the pain or stop the suffering. Once I couldn’t save them from enduring the battle they didn’t deserve.
Six years ago in June, I lost my beloved Wilbur…

While it hurt deeply to lose my canine companion of twelve years, my brother’s ‘twin’ because they were the exact same age, I could accept his death as a part of growing old, body failing the mind and spirit that were still young at heart. It didn’t make the pain any less, but I could accept losing my best friend and the one male I knew would always be loyal to me, even though he was adopted for my little brother. He was a wonderful judge of character, knew what guys I didn’t dare need to leave home with, and was there to lick the tears off my face and lean against me when I needed it.




This weekend, his feline best friend and porch buddy on rainy days, Sweet Pea, aka Sweets, the Sweetness, my lil Rockstar, Sweet Treats, the Dutchess, was attacked by two neighborhood dog hoodlums out looking for trouble on Saturday night. Despite my two dogs trying their best to break out of their pens to save her and my father rescuing her, driving me and her to the vet, and my mother staying with her all day today, even performing CPR on her twice so I could make it home after work to tell her goodbye, she joined him late this evening during the hurdle semis (I only note this because I was telling her about the Swedish runner taking a tumble when she took her last breaths). And, like the last time when I discovered my beloved Wilbur gone, when I walked out to take her to where my dad was digging her burial place by her best canine friend’s, I cried, my throat burned, and as he covered her up, I sobbed. I sobbed as tried to forget the pain with the heat of a hot bubble bath to no avail.
Many will read this and say, “She’s just a cat.” No, she wasn’t. I rescued her when she was a kitten, abandoned on a hot asphalt with a skinned up head twelve years ago this summer. I watched her as she made her bed a flower pot. I took care of her during kidney problems. I hurt and prayed as I watched her suffer the effects of a poisonous mushroom seven years ago and I cheered her on as she fought back to survive, despite temporary blindness, deafness, and the start of organ failure. I watched her battle tapeworms a couple years ago. All the meanwhile, my rough tough walking tomboy of a girl feline won over my dog loving heart. While my other cat (rescued a year earlier) may be the ‘prettier’ one, the princess, Sweets was my lil feline dutchess. When she followed me to the car in the mornings, my days were good. When she greeted me with a meow and a headrub when I got home, any bad day was erased. And her kisses cheered me up as much as Wilbur’s did. And she knew how to give love (I taught her the sign in ASL, any time she was in the window, she’d give me love when she saw me coming). She still had several lives and several years in her. And they were robbed from her by two dogs an owner that does not bother to control and tame them. She’s not the first victim in the area from what we’ve discovered. And I’m afraid she won’t be the last until dog karma kicks in for those two.
Rest in Peace Sweets. I’m so sorry you had to suffer so much during your last two days on earth. You fought so hard–and I’ll miss you so much. Give the Wilburnator one of your headrubs for me when you see him…

Wilbur (1988 - 2002) & Sweets (1996 - 2008)






