June is a tough month for us. It’s a month when just glancing at the calendar, we’ve cause to remember the original Thunderpaws Tribe. Three of them passed away in June, year after year after year. For a while it seemed we had a standing appointment at the vet. We got very good at administering shots, pills, IVs.
There was Bishop, our first greyhound. Our first dog, too! He would see himself in the mirror and bark, thinking it was another dog. Come and play! He was a goofball of a boy, and lived to a ripe old age of 14. That’s beyond old in big-dog years. 6 years gone, and I still miss his tail wagging.
There was Minnie, our first cat. The First Tribe Member. Small. Black. Empress of All. She ruled the house a velvet paw. Everyone, be they animal or vegetable, knew who the boss was. She let us live with her because we have thumbs, which she found useful. 5 years gone, and I still feel her presence in the house. She has permeated every nook and cranny. I hope she moves with us.
There was Rupert, our tough-knocks kid. Rupert was the first of the hand-raised kittens from our vet. Blind in one eye, and on 1001 medications, he had the sweetest disposition. A true lap cat. Alas, he followed the mantra of “Only the Good Die Young”, succumbing to FIP at 6 months. Gone 4 years, he gave us the best 6 months ever. Rupert paved the way for the Hellboys.
Each and every one has burrowed their way into our hearts, bringing great joy and happiness. Some day, we’ll meet again over the Rainbow Bridge. Thank you all.