Hi all-
    Some of you are new here and just starting the grieving process. And we are all here to help you. One thing that helped me early on was writing a letter to my furbaby. IDK why it made me feel better, but it did. I would like to share it with all of you- it was me remembering Spider for who he was, not just some cat. It is a long post.

To my Dearest Spider,

How I loved you so. The first time we ever met, you hissed at me fiercely. I picked you up, held you close, and cried because you were so gorgeous. You had the most beautiful eyes and most unique tufts of fur on the tips of your ears. My little lynx. And I loved you from that first moment.

I named you Spider because not only did you eat a spider in the kitchen, but you liked to climb on me when you were just a little kitten.

I trapped you underneath a laundry basket one time, because you would not quit helping me with the sewing on a hockey jersey. That string was just too much for your curiosity. You kept managing to find a way out from underneath the basket. It became a fun game for us.

You used to sit on my four-wheeler, pretending you could drive it. If only your short legs could have reached and your paws had opposable thumbs, I would have let you. I would have gotten you a mini helmet.

You never really liked to be held, but I always picked you up and flipped you over and made you deal with it anyway. Hoping you would adjust to it, although you never really seemed to. I did this over and over again, because I loved you.

Your personality was so sweet and mild. You were friendly with anyone and everyone, you didn’t care who it was. I watched you walk right up to a mule deer buck in the backyard once, without a fear in the world, and sniff his nose, even though he was a thousand times your size. You rubbed up against the legs of many of my friends, and even dogs. Even strangers. You didn’t care. When you were in the mood to be nice. You liked people and dogs more than others cats. You were always like this.

On the other side of your personality was a bit of a ferociousness. You would sit for hours in the window, just waiting to beat up on the cat across the street. I’d watch your tail twitch and twitch and the instant I opened the door, you would take off in a dead sprint with purpose. You came home with many claw marks, once a very swollen tail, and even busted up toes. You attacked me a few times. One time you hurt me so bad it made me cry because I couldn’t understand why you were acting that way. So I held you down and petted you until that wild look vanished out of your eyes. I wanted to hit you, to retaliate, but I couldn’t do it. I didn’t understand what was troubling you so deep down to make you turn against me. I just wanted to love you. And I did love you, even that wild temper.

When you were younger, you always tried to bury your food after you were done eating it. I always thought this a curious thing, but it always made me laugh. I just figured the food smelled worse than your litter box. You also liked to pull the water out of your refill water dish all over the floor, yet you never seem to help mop it all up.

You tore apart toilet paper rolls, instead of just unraveling them into the wastebasket.

You loved bath time; always trying to get across, without getting your paws wet. You fell in once, but it didn't bother you. You liked to watch the water drain and licked the bottom of the tub after it had all vanished.

I had to take you to the vet once when you hurt your arm. You limped for a few days, and we got medicine and it fixed you right up, no matter how much you hated the taste. You actually hated your crate so bad that you managed to rip and claw your way right out of it while I was driving down the highway, injured or not. I could not keep you caged. You were always a free soul.

You enjoyed playing with those little colored mice. Flipping them up and down, they ended up all over the house. You dropped them in my shoes and pulled them out. You hid all of them underneath my dresser in the bedroom, or under the kitchen stove. One time, you flipped one up in the air so well that it landed directly into the trash can. Then you looked at me as if to say, “Hey, you going to help me out with this? I’m not supposed to be in the trash. Your rules.” I pulled the mouse out for you and you continued to play with it.

One time, you jumped right into the refrigerator. I don’t know why, but you did, and you sat there and looked at me. I took a picture of it. I will never forget.

Sometimes you demanded my attention in the middle of the night, or early in the morning. First, you always tried a soft paw to my face or arm while I was sleeping. Sometimes it was your ticklish whiskers. If I did not respond, you added claws to your poke. That usually woke me up and you got your wish.

We can't forget the time Charlie visited. We came back to the house to find the trash scattered and ripped apart all over the living room, while you just sat up on the table and smiled, pretending you had no part in it. The irony was, you weren't even supposed to be on the table at all and we completely ignored that fact, obviously distracted by the mess. You knew the dog was in trouble, whether you had taken part in it or not.

You chased squirrels and I don’t know that you ever caught one. You were always a bit clumsy and not near as agile, but you never gave up chasing them. No matter how high up in the tree you went. No matter how far down it was back to the ground. You were never a quitter.

You were always very helpful in anything we did together. Cleaning out the car- you hopped right inside to investigate the interior. Laundry- always jumped in to make sure the agitator was working properly in the washer and that the heat was appropriate within the dryer. Never while they were running; you were an expert. You helped me fold the clothes, followed me from room to room while I cleaned, except while the vacuum was running. We raked leaves together, and every morning you jumped up on the bathroom counter while I was getting ready for work. Just to help me out. I always felt guilty leaving you for work, hockey, or long weekends away, but you dutifully waited by the door every day at lunch to come in and eat with me, and were always waiting for me once I got home from work. You were always there, even if you were just waiting to go outside.

You helped investigate new goalie equipment. Made sure the fit was just right inside the waistline of my goalie pants. Checking all of the straps on everything else.

One day you were demanding so much of my attention that you jumped up on the table in front of me and plopped down right on the middle of my crossword puzzle. You rolled around and looked at me, saying, “Hey, look at me. I filled in all of the blanks for you. Rub my belly.”

You loved your belly rubbed. You plopped down unpredictability more than once, just to have your belly scratched.

Moving to the city was an adventure in itself. I drugged you up and put you in your crate, to help calm you enough for the journey. The drug wore off before it was supposed to and I got to enjoy a chorus of your various meows while driving down the road. We stopped at a porta-potty to stretch our legs out and you wandered around inside and kept looking to me as if to ask, “Where exactly are we going?”

“Don’t worry, Little Buddy, it will be wonderful,” all the while I had a sinking feeling that I was sentencing you to an early death. I hoped it would not be that way, but I had seen you use up almost all of your nine lives dodging cars in our previous home. I knew how you would die.

Your first night, you forgot where the litter box was, or you were too scared. You went in the bathtub, instead of on the carpet or the floor or any other hard to clean up place. I was so proud of you! You yowled and meowed and kept us awake for a week straight, at night.

You were so terrified in the new big house that you hid in the basement all the time. Eventually you overcame your fears of the new sounds, sights, and smells. We trained you to use a cat door so you could go in and get your food as you needed, without the dogs bothering you or eating all of your food. We taught you to use the dog door to allow yourself in and out as needed, once you became acclimated to the routine of the household.

At first when we moved in, and the new noises upstairs scared you, I would sit on the floor and you would curl up in my lap, as close as you could get to me. Comforted by me, knowing nothing could harm you just as long as you were in my arms.

You helped us with the drop-cloth when we painted the bookshelves, aerating the plastic with your claws and pouncing.

One night, you kept trying to wake me up and I just kept pushing you away. You persisted until I got out of bed and as you walked away, your tail smugly moving from side to side, I closed the door so you could not come back in and bother me. Later, I found out you were merely trying to show me what the dog had done-- that she had gotten into and pulled the trash out all over the kitchen. Oh, how I wish I had followed you to the scene of the crime that night.

Your favorite spot to sleep was on your blanket in my closet. In fact, that was the last time I ever saw you. I stroked your fur and told you goodbye and to have a good weekend, that I would see you on Sunday. But something in my gut told me that I would never see you again. I wish I had listened to that gut feeling, because I would have picked you up and held you close to me. I feel like I took that very moment for granted.

You were always there for me, my beautiful cat. I tried to be the best cat mama I could be. I let you run free and wild, increasing the chances of an early death for you, but I didn’t believe in confining you. Of holding you back nor of keeping you in when there was a whole, wide world out there for you to explore.

You gave me three great years; you were always there for me when the going was rough. You didn’t care; you loved me unconditionally.

I know we will meet again, one day. Your soul is too kind and gentle to just perish into nothingness. You have taught me that it is okay to be kind to others, no matter what they look like, or who they are. To love.

I will always remember our last moment together, and the many fond memories we shared. I know you are in safe and loving arms now.

Our time together was short, but you will never be forgotten.

Rest in Peace, Spider.

You met your death quickly and were loved deeply.

R.I.P. 7-16-10
I am so glad I got to know you, even though our time together was short.

R.I.P. Spider 7-16-10

You were very loved and will always, always be missed.
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What a beautiful memorial.  I too wrote to Ted.  Long letters for the first few days, then shorter posts on this site at his page.  It does really help to be able to say what you are feeling.
Barbara Lyngarkos
My Beloved Ted 8/7/2005 - 7/7/10
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what a beautiful way to remember your Spider

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Wow Wolfshadow,
I read every word and loved it.   I smiled as I read many of those cute, funny things Spider did.   i love the mental picture of Spider in a mini helmet!  You know, even though, I'm a little over 5 months, I think you've inspired me to write a letter this weekend to Scottie.  I can see how that would be a good thing.  Thank you so much for sharing all of those beautiful memories. 
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