I am awakened with "Koko died, Koko died, Koko died." My husband
is saying this to me with tears in his eyes. Our beloved and handsome 10
year old Maine Coon, Kokopelli, has died... way too young. Kokopelli,
Koko Pop, Koko Lo-mo-po, Popster, Big Dude and Koko Smelly (when he was a
baby he often had diarrhea). I'm assuming he died of cardiomyopathy, a
genetic heart defect that is often found in Maine Coons. As a woman of a
certain age, I've lost many pets in my life time. I can still name most
of them... Corkie, our first dog, then we had a series of Siamese cats,
then along came a chihuahua named Putsem, a derivation of Czech words
which means come here. Then I had Fat Cat, Weenie, Scaredy Cat, Frisky
and Maggie, and of course, Koko. I still have Bocce, a Main Coon and
Koko's brother and Bella Blue, a Siamese mix. Even into my twilight
years, I will have pets but I will have a plan in place for them. I
certainly don't want them ending up in a shelter. So, here are just some
thoughts:
The cycle of life... As you can see, I have a long
history of having pets. So, one would think that after a while one would
become a little "tougher" in handling the death of a pet. But, for me,
it has gotten harder. Maybe it's because I no longer have all of the
other stuff that one goes through in life taking up space in my
emotions.