Abner (Abby)

Abby was not a particularly affectionate, or even friendly cat. Although he would grant me a few minutes of lap time now and then, for the most part he preferred an aloof, unbothered distance. He was rather timid. Perhaps because the people who turned him in at the shelter had been overenthusiastic in their spray-bottle "training," any hissing, spraying sound would send him running, and he tended to be fearful around couches: for years after I adopted him he would not join me on one. He also had a very hard time with change of any kind, so when we moved to a new home, he wouldn't come out of his hiding box for days. He could not learn to get along with any other cat. He turned his nose up at fancy treats. He’d usually rather curl up in some dark hidden place than stretch out photogenically in a patch of sun. Unless it was a piece of string moving under a record-store bag, he was indifferent to toys. He didn’t have a cute voice. He just didn't do "pet" very well. 

And I loved him with all my heart. 

During our 17 years together, Abby constantly reminded me that real love isn't a transaction, dependent on certain exchanges and conditions. His presence in my life afforded me an ongoing practice in compassion, and acceptance, and kindness, and responsibility. He did not exist to entertain me, or comfort me. He didn't need reasons to be. He didn't need a purpose. He simply was, a sentient being in my care, and in his being, with no intention at all, he became one of my greatest teachers, of the greatest lesson any of us can learn: that a well-lived life is given to others in kindness and compassion with no consideration of return. There is no other meaning or purpose we need. 

As he died, I held his head in my palm. I stroked his cheek, and I told him I loved him, and I thanked him for being my cat and sharing his life with me. He died gently, like a leaf falling into my hand, and I think taught me something there too that I am still working out.

But I will keep him in my heart the rest of my life, and in my memory of the twitch of his tail when I spoke his name, and his solemn, impassive gaze, I think his lessons will keep.

I asked my partner if she wanted to say something about Abby here, and this is what she wrote: 

“He was a beautiful, elegant, and aloof cat. It took him years to warm up to me, but when he finally started to open up, it was so rewarding to be let into his world. He had a very graceful way of permitting just a few pets before leaving, like a king granting an audience. I will miss him, and the small tail flicks he’d make when you said his name. He was a good companion and friend for many years to my dearest love, and I will always be grateful for the gifts he gave my love.”


Goodbye Abby


May all sentient beings have happiness and the cause of happiness.
May all sentient beings be free of suffering and the cause of suffering.
May all sentient beings not be separated from the bliss that is without suffering.
May all sentient beings abide in equanimity, free of bias, attachment, and anger.