August 3 – Goodbye, Mr. B

     I’m oh, so sad, today.  One of the Geezer’s and my friends has left us.  Mr. B, one of our family, passed away last night.  I know that we dogs are supposed to be at odds with our feline cousins, but as with almost all forms of contrasting life, an accord can be reached, and, as in our case, genuine love and respect can flourish. 
     Watching Mr. B the last few weeks has been difficult.  If there ever was a feisty cat, one with no fear, capable of amazing athletic feats, it was my old buddy.  Seeing him decline has been one of the hardest things I’ve had to do.  He used to chase me at random times for random reasons in an unending game of seniority tag.  By his reckoning, I’m a short time resident in the Gator home.  My 2 1/2 years pales to his 20 plus.  Certainly, I’ll miss him, but the Geezer and Mrs. Gator will much, much more.  Those two love us animals with deep uncompromising affection.
     Mr. B spent every night, up to the last ones, curled up in the Gator’s bed next to Mrs. G’s chest.  He was better than an alarm clock, waking her each morning promptly at 5.  Mr. B would see she was propped up in bed, pillows stacked behind her, waiting for the Geezer’s cup of coffee which the old man serves her in bed each morning.  Every day she gave Mr. B his after breakfast “ride,” a stroll around the house perched on her shoulder, a perk he enjoyed and guarded jealously.  When she arrived home each evening, he’d climb up on her chest and gaze lovingly into her eyes, asking no more than that he be allowed to stay.
     As much as Mrs. Gator will grieve her loss of Mr B, the Geezer’s feelings will equal or exceed hers.  There was a special bond between those two.  B was the Geezer’s writing companion before I came to fill part of that responsibility.  Often we’d share that joy, Mr. B draped over the Geezer’s right shoulder while I’d rest my head on the top of the Geezer’s left thigh.  We’d stay at our posts for hours at a time, waiting for the Geezer’s words of appreciation and the petting that always followed.  Mr. B’s favorite spot was sitting on the old boy’s shoulders.  Close seconds were the Geezer’s lap and on the recliner above the Geezer’s head.
     Mr. B was there for the Gators when Hurricane Charley destroyed their house, when they moved to new jobs, when reverses occurred in their lives, and he helped them celebrate those victories, large and small, for which humans strive.  He was so loyal.  In his last few desperate days, he refused to die without having the opportunity to say “goodbye” to the Geezer who was away at a writers conference.  He clung to that thread with uncompromising tenacity until his friend returned home.  In turn, the Geezer was with him at 1:30 when…
     Mr. B, I can only say to you these words that are the highest compliment that any of we living beings can achieve.  “You are dearly loved.  You’ll be severely missed.”  In memory of my friend, Mr. B – October, 1988 to August, 2009.
    There are tears on the keyboard.


11 thoughts on “August 3 – Goodbye, Mr. B

  1. so many passings at the same time ‘noted’ online..may Mr. B find bindo’s sister Sylvia along their ways… oh this path all too well known..gentle wind hugs to sandy, geezer and Mrs. Gator,

  2. Aw, sorry buddy – My condolences to you and the Geezer and Mrs. Gator.

    We have a Mr. K. So wh know how it would feel.

  3. Hi. Just wanted to stop by and express my sympathy. A while ago, you read my blog, so I decided to return the favor and read yours. Turns out it’s the funniest blog out there (under normal circumstances, of course) and now I never miss a new one. I am saddened to hear of your loss, and I wish you good thoughts going forward.


  4. Oh, I’m so sorry! I can’t stand tears on the keyboard! Soon will come a day when you will smile instead when you think of Mr. B.


  5. “So sorry for your loss” seems so inadequate. My four-legged furry family members are just that, family. And I can tell yours are too. This so hard, so painful that no one would willingly go through it unless they know that the joy outweighs and outlasts the hurt.

    I feel for y’all. We’ve been through it, and will again. It’s devastating to contemplate, but yet, I can not imagine life without 4-legged family. So we suffer through the pain of loss for the sake of the immense joy they bring.

    Hugs to all of you. There are tears on my keyboard too.

  6. Hello,
    This is Gizmo and Beanie’s mom wanting to again to pass on our heart felt condolences to you and your family. We are saddened by the passing Mr. B. especially after hearing some many good things about him as he was with his family. Thank you Sandy dear for letting us know and be sure to give your people extra love right now . . . they’ll need it. We’ll keep all of you in our prayers and send an angle your way in hopes of lessening the pain of your loss while mopping up the sad tear on the keyboard.

    Much love and many hugs,
    Sarah . . . Pet Mom At Large

  7. There are tears on my keyboard, too. I’m thinking of your dear sweet old buddy and those sad final days, as well as all of the happy ays before. I’m going through that right now with Malcolm, my 17 1/2 -year-old cat, my little sweetheart. I was hoping he just had a cold, but he declined so quickly. Tests showed he had a tumor. Now he’s at home. I hope he’s not in too much pain. It’s hard to know what to do now. I feel your loss and my loss very acutely.

    Sandy, keep your humans close!

  8. Pingback: Malcolm is a Norwegian Forest Cat — Cat of the Vikings! « Catherine Sherman

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