Butters “Captain Chaos” Dickens 2004 – 2005

Earlier this week, a tragedy occured. Not a tragedy on the scale of loosing a child (which also happened in my family this week), but a tragedy nonetheless. It may be hard for some to understand why loosing a pet is so upsetting, but let me try to explain. Some of us do not have children, and some have had children and now they are all grown and living independantly. The desire to nurture and protect those who need us is an instinctual and sometimes overwhelming need. So some of us, when circumstances demand it, choose to funnel this energy into a pet. I guess it really does no good to try and explain it – if your pet is a family member, you already know what I’m talking about, if you are petless or your pet is simply a pet, you’ll never understand. My parents, like me, consider their pets members of their family. A few days ago, my parents lost their beloved Butters. He was hit by a car in front of his home. My parents live out in the country and, unfortunately, this is a fairly common occurance. I talked of Butters in a previous post so I think I’ve made it clear just how special he was to my parents. He managed to weasel his way pretty deep into the hearts of those who knew him only briefly. He was truly a magnificent cat. My parents have had many additions to their family over the years. This is mainly due to their living in the country where many people decide to drop carloads of kittens when they are too lazy to find them good homes. I’ve always believed that there is a special place in hell for people who dump animals, and so it follows that there is a special place in heaven for those that pick them up, dry them off, bring them inside and let them stay. I imagine this place in heaven is also heavily populated with all kinds of pets as well – pets that were lucky enough to wander into the yards of people like my parents, and those who weren’t so fortunate. So here’s to Butters – may you rest in peace. No matter what you choose to call heaven, I’m sure that right now Butters is there; napping someplace soft and warm and will wake in a bit to chase a nut or small bit of string. We will miss him.


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