And Then There Was the Loving

by Patty L. Fletcher

On September 24, 2020, life as I knew it changed irrevocably. The death of my beloved Campbell left a jagged hole in the very fabric of my soul. When I felt his spirit leave his body, brushing my cheek with its sweet kiss as it passed, I believed I would never love again.

Campbell was my Seeing Eye® guide dog. He was my independence, but he was much more than that. Other than people I see when I am out and about, talk with on the phone, via email, or through social media, I haven’t many close friends or family. Most times, if not for the Meals on Wheels volunteers, mail carriers, and the few neighbors I might speak to occasionally, I have no one.

Campbell was my strength and company. He and I slept together, traveled together, read books and listened to music together, and even enjoyed our mealtimes together. We shared everything. He was my absolute best friend. I was his human mother, and he will always be my son. I knew what he was thinking, and he knew my mind many times before I could even act upon it. If I woke in the night with fibromyalgia pain, he was always there to comfort me with a lick or a nuzzle on the hand or a snuggle of his body against mine. If I cried, he came to me no matter where he was or what he was doing, even at times waking from a deep sleep to wash away my tears and reassure me. He took me to the store, and out to eat. He made sure I got to and from the doctor’s office, and even when he needed to go to the vet, most times, he worked to get us there safely. Everything we did was connected, and to us there was nothing more important than the other. Campbell was my very life, and without him I don’t know what I might have become.

As Autumn turned to Winter, my grief became easier to bear. With much prayer and meditation, I was able to carry on with my life. I knew to do otherwise would have dishonored everything Campbell had ever done for me. But as Thanksgiving passed and Christmas loomed ever closer, though I continued with various tasks, I wasn’t sure I could hold on. My loneliness was complete. Between the isolation caused by COVID-19 restrictions and my own introverted lifestyle, I began to experience bouts of depression which caused me to feel as though I were walking through mounds of ground glass whilst continuing even the simplest of routines.

Then one day, I was talking to a friend about how having nothing to touch was affecting me. I told her, “I feel as if I’m in a lifeless vacuum. I’m not living; I’m only existing. I’ve no purpose, and I’m not sure how much longer I can go on this way.”

She asked, “Would you like me to help you find a puppy, or maybe an older dog?”

After some thought I decided, “No. Surely sooner or later the restrictions will lift, and I’ll be able to go back to The Seeing Eye® for another Guide Dog. I’m not a young pup anymore, and I don’t believe I can handle two dogs. A new Guide has so many specific needs, I couldn’t do justice to that relationship if I had another dog in the mix.”

Over the next few weeks, we texted back and forth about the possibility of my getting a cat. Even that caused me some misgivings. But one day she texted, “I’ve a friend with a cat whose person died of COVID, and his wife can’t care for him. Would you be interested?”

At first, I wavered. But the night after she’d told me of this cat’s plight, we had a late Autumn storm of rain, sleet, and snow. Lying there listening to the blow rattling the windows, seemingly furious that it couldn’t get inside, my grief flooded back.

“How does anyone stand this?” I huddled beneath my covers, shivering as the storm raged. Then I wondered, “How must that little cat feel? He’s got no one to love or care for him. His person has suddenly been taken from him and he must surely feel like the only cat in the world without someone to love.”

At that moment, I knew I must have him. Even though it was the middle of the night, I texted my friend, “Go and get that cat. Bring him to me.”

After only a few days, my friend Melanie, who happened to be the lead receptionist for the vet where Campbell had received his medical care, had taken possession of the cat. The doctors were examining him to make certain he had nothing seriously wrong. We learned he had allergies and would need monthly treatments, but still I wanted him. Suddenly, I needed him more than a man needs water when walking through the most barren desert.

Then, just a few days before Christmas, during yet another late Autumn blow, Melanie brought the cat to me. As I touched the bars of his carrier, a little wet nose nuzzled my fingers. The ice around my heart began to thaw. I opened the door, and Prince Edward walked out and into my arms, and then there was the loving.

Patty with Campbell (left) and Edward (right)

About the Author

Patty L. Fletcher lives in Kingsport, Tennessee, where she works full time as a Writer with the goal of bridging the great chasm which separates the disAbled from the non-disAbled. She is Also a Social Media Marketing Assistant. To learn more, visit her Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/tellittotheworld/.

• loving
• Prince Edward