It was a week ago today that we took our cat Denver to the vet to be cremated. Last week was one of the hardest weeks for me ever. Who would have thought it would hurt that much to lose a pet. Maybe it was because it was the first one that I have ever lost, or that he was still young, or that he died right next to us just minutes after we fell asleep, but it was hard.

We got the call that his ashes were ready to picked up on Friday. That actually made me feel better. Just knowing that he is in his final resting place really helped me. Every living being on earth spends way more time dead they they did alive. Denver just got there a few years earlier than expected.

We got Denver back in 2000 when my wife’s brother found him abandoned down by the river. Our theory was that someone had a bunch of cats that they wanted to get rid of, so they just dumped them in the river. He was so little. His eyes were barely open. We had to bottle feed him for a week. He was lucky to survive that, so really, he lived eight years longer than expected.

He would grow up to become a big fat cat. We did all we could to get him to lose weight, but he was just lazy. He was easily my cat. He wouldn’t hardly let anyone else pet or pick him up, but he would come to me when I call for him. He slept and stayed hidden most of the day, but he knew when feeding time was. I usually feed our pets around the same times everyday, and Denver would never let me forget. He would always come out and find some way to get my attention and let me know it’s feeding time.

I will always miss him, but I no longer feel sad. Now when I think if him, it brings a smile to my face just knowing what a great cat he was, and how many good times we had together.