There were plenty of things about Marley and Me by John Grogan that bugged me (Jenny making “hearty soups and homemade breads” and vets being “seasoned professionals” and making a “flurry of phone calls“: Grogan does love his cliches) but only a true animal-phobe could not cry at the end of this book. And yes, Grogan is right: pets can teach us important lessons about living in the moment and not worrying so much about things like carpets, screens, and upholstery; they can teach us about joy and that when bumps occur in the road of life (speaking of a cliche), we should get over it already! Even cats left in a kennel can only hold a grudge for so long once the beloved owners come back from vacation. And that is the key, “beloved.” Because our warm-blooded pets do love us, they greet us at the door after a long day when the kids can’t bother to get off the couch and spousie-dear is grumbling about dinner. They love us even when we forget to feed them or clean their litter pans; they wriggle into our laps, sneak onto our beds, and shove themselves right under the table to be as close as they can be to the object of their unfailing love: us.
The scene when Marley must be put to sleep brought tears to my eyes and, much as it was for hundreds readers judging from the messages Grogan got after writing his column about Marley’s demise, I thought back to the day I had to put my Lily down. Lily was a thirteen-year old cat who had seen me through life as a single professional in New York City, put up with the arrival of a permanent man (a deal sweetened by the presence of his cat-loving daughter), more than a few moves, marriage, kids, and the worst indignity, more cats in the house. Lily slept on or close to my head for thirteen years, missing a night only when I was on vacation or in a hospital having children or knee surgeries. She was diagnosed with breast cancer when she was thirteen (this runs in my family — but for my dear sweet cat?) and I elected to let her go rather than put her through the rigors of chemo that I would never be able to explain. I held her in my arms while she was sedated and I still can see her looking up at me while the heart-stopping medicine was injected: she was looking at me with trust and with love. Every pet owner knows that such love and such trust, while not human, is valuable and meaningful. And very, very missed when it is gone.
