"Et tu, Brute?"

Bear with me here. I don't usually write overly personal stuff on this blog. It is normally dedicated to theological matters and GCA's ongoing endeavors. But, at this moment I have to write about a cat.

The young feline fellow pictured here, sitting on my daughter's lap, is Brutus. I referred to him as Einstein because of his white mustache, making him look much smarter than he really was. Although he frequently looked as though he was pondering the mysteries of life, or the complexities of quantum physics, I'm certain the foremost thought in his head was normally "more food."

My kids raised Brutus from a kitten and he was barely two years old when we lost him. He was never particularly streetwise, unlike his brother. Yesterday morning, as we were dressing and preparing for church, Megan went out on the front porch to feed "the boys." She came running back into the house screaming that there was a vulture on our lawn. I went out and chased the large, carrion-consuming fowl off the carcass of our little friend.

Over the last couple of weeks Brutus and I had bonded. Although the kids have always been able to approach him, pick him up, and tussle with him, he's always been shy around me. I'd been plying him with turkey bits and scrambled eggs and just a week ago he climbed into my lap for the first time while I sat on my porch watching the sunset. He was a good fellow.

So, I had to keep my kids from seeing his emaciated body. I wanted them to remember him the way he looked when he jumped up in the kitchen window and watched us as though he were watching TV. I covered him with a plastic bag and dug a grave in my back yard.

Sometimes in life you have to do what needs to be done. You have to control your emotions and concentrate on the task at hand. I dug through the cold, muddy earth, overturning the shovel repeatedly, putting an extra strain on my aching back. But, there were no choices. I had to bury my new friend.

I cannot count the number of pets I've buried through the years. Some were taken to the vet to be put to sleep. Some were dead when I found them. But, it never really gets easier.

Oh, I know ... someone will say, "Oh, come on. It's just a cat." And I know that. I realize that animals, like all living things, are fragile creatures. And everything living will eventually die. If you live long enough, you're bound to lose people and animals you love. I get it.

But, some animals have that extra spark -- that little extra bit of personality that makes them more than pets. They genuinely become part of the family. And, Brutus was a regular part of our day. He was always in the window or laying in the sun, waiting for his humans to come feed and pet him. It's an odd thing about animals. We feel good about ourselves when we work to make them feel good. Brutus was one of those little furry folk who made you happy when you looked at him. Just last week the girl who delivered pizza to our house stopped and looked at "the boys" -- Brutus and his nearly identical brother, Mystery. She burst out, "I love those cats!" He was just that sort of guy.

Well, good-bye, pal. Thanks for the good days. Thanks for all the times you made my children smile. Thanks for creeping up onto my lap and sneaking into my heart.

We'll miss you.