On February 17, 2009, my 17 1/2 year old cat, Sheen, died. He was my pet, my friend, for the past 15 years. Sheen was my first pet of my very own. He was my sole roommate for three years of my life. I have never known a more loving pet, a louder purr, a better face massage, a warmer constant companion. I miss him dearly.
At the little burial service that my family and I had, my sister, Shelley, shared a touchy tale:
A family with a six-year-old son had recently lost their ten-year-old dog to cancer. They sat together one evening, shortly after his death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives. The six-year-old, who had been listening quietly, piped up suddenly, "I know why." Startled, the family all turned to him. He said, "People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life -- like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?" The six-year-old continued, "Well, pets already know how to do that, so they don't have to stay as long."
Indeed, Sheen did love everyone, all the time. His constant company was my parent's dog, Beau. Sheen loved to rub up against Beau, snuggle in close and sleep right next to him. Beau died a few years ago, and it was very evident that Sheen missed Beau greatly. He did not know where to sleep, now that his best bud was gone. Now my first best bud is gone. And even though my now best bud, Blake, may not remember Sheen, I will always have these following pictures of them together, taken during the last few weeks of Sheen's life, and will share them with Blake as he grows up, reminding him of what a wonderful cat his first pet was.
Sheen, we will always love you . . .
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