KAA RAY Z

                                                       

I would imagine when I am finished saying what I'm about to say, most of you, who do not already think it, will think I'm nuts. (Those who do not question my sanity maybe we should get together and form a support group.) Here goes:

In our pet cemetery we have buried eleven of our animals. We have Lincoln our dog and Smokey our cat left. When they go, we will have buried, if my math is correct, thirteen animals (interesting number).

Everyday I see some reminders of the dead in and outside the house, and when I am reminded, something happens in the pit of my stomach. The more recent deaths, the bigger the happening. I do know that time helps. It doesn't heal, but it helps. I've given a lot of thought as to why, when we have given an animal a good life and a good death, should I feel as I do.

Here is where the nutty part comes in:

When you have an animal, he or she relies completely on you for pretty much everything. Being a good animal owner that is what you provide. They feel safe and protected around you. Here it comes. I believe I feel the way I do after a loss is that I worry about the animal, after death, being--SCARED. Is that nuts or what? I intellectually know they are not scared, but what are they going to do going to a strange place without Jean or me? Are they going to be OK? Do they have someplace to go for protection, on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge without us and their pack mates?

(I don't know if I'm even going to publish this, it sounds so screwy.)

I have a reason for thinking that pointing out this "unconventional" theory may have some validity. When I was younger I wasn't any more fearful of heights than the average guy. As the years went on I got less and less comfortable standing on the edge of any significant height. Trying to understand what concerned me when I was on the edge, I determined that it wasn't that I was going to slip and fall, or that somebody was going to push me, I was afraid, of all things, that I was going to jump. Doing some research on the subject I found out that was not such a whacky thought; other people felt the same way. That made me feel less demented.

Is it possible that anyone out there, when you think about it, in any way, shares my irrational thought about animals after death? Should I be seeking professional help? Should I, like Billy Bob's character in Sling Blade, go to the nervous hospital?

As long as I'm pushing this hypothesis, let me push a little, actually a lot, further. I, in no way, want to relate children with animals, but the concept, to me, seems eerily the same. Why when a child dies do the parents generally feel so much worse than when Grandma dies? Of course number one is the lost future of the child, and the loss to the parents of part of themselves, but how much of the pain of loss comes from the parents being the protector, the shielder from all harm facing the realization that they just couldn't do it? What will the child do without them? Will they be scared? Grandma can take care of herself what ever the after life is, from nothing to the very religious heavenly, heaven. Grandma can handle it, but can an innocent baby?

I believe most of us like to think of ourselves as logical people, but deep down, where the real us hides, is a Wizard Of Oz behind the curtain pulling the heart strings. These thoughts on death have helped me open my curtain just a little bit so I can get a peek and maybe recognize my "Wizard" in the future.