It was a cold, snowy day in January 2009 when my younger half-brother and half-sister, who had been asking our Dad for pet kittens, picked out two baby black cats, a brother and sister, who the shelter had initially named Jenna and Jacob. They had an orange sibling who had been adopted only minutes before, and the two kittens, a little boy whose fur was all black save for a tiny white stop on his neck, and the little girl a black-and-white tuxedo patterns. My half-brother chose Jenna to be his kitten, and my half-sister chose Jacob to be her kitten. I had gone with them, for I was living with my Dad at the time while commuting to the last couple of years of undergraduate school, and I loved cats, so I wanted to see which kittens my brother and sister chose. Jenna and Jacob were very tiny, and as we brought them home in a new carrier they mewed their little baby meows the entire way. My younger half-siblings gave them new adoptive names on the way home, Jenna was renamed Blueberry, and Jacob was renamed Blackberry.
My half-siblings were still little kids back then – seven and five, respectively, and at first my Dad and I had to warn them that the kittens were babies and make sure they weren’t rough with them when they played. As Blueberry and Blackberry grew bigger and stronger over the next few months, they began to try to escape outside whenever we opened the door, and so we bought and installed cat doors on the door to the house and garage, cat doors that could be locked on one side so that when the young cats came back from roaming at night, they could come in where there was warmth, food, and care – but not get back outside until one of us unlcoked the cat door again. The locked cat doors prevented Blueberry and blackberry from getting out in the night and/or rough weather for a little while, but one day we found Blackberry fidgeting with the door lock until he figured out how to lift it up from the unlocked side. My Dad and I could hardly believe it – Blackberry had figured out how to open a cat door even when it was locked, and he was not much older than a kitten at the time.
There was no stopping the Berry Twins, as we called them then, from going outside whenever they wanted and only coming back home when they chose. Blueberry loved to hunt, and she would sometimes come back with a still live mouse, and let in loose in the house so that she could chase and hunt it all day long, but she was easily startled by signs of danger and so did not need much incentive to come back home often during the day and at night. While she stayed small even upon reaching adulthood, Blackberry grew big – three times his twin sister’s size, with a long body and tail, huge claws, and heavy but all of it pure muscle. Very little frightened him, and he would often stay out late at night. When he was out until very late, I began to walk and search the neighborhood each night, calling his name. It was not long before Blackberry would come back when he heard me call, returning to my arms with a rolling meow and even learning to wait to cross the road until the cars has passed. It was almost our routine every night, that I would search and call for Blackberry late at night and he would come when I called him home.
A couple of years later, I experienced a health collapse when scar tissue that had built up on my intestines from delayed and emergency liver and kidney transplants done on me when I was very young began to cause me immense pain, and it became very difficult for me to stand up and/or take care of myself. I became so exhausted and was in such pain that I resigned myself to death, more willing to end my life than continue to go through invasive and painful medical procedures that almost always both complicated my internal damage and only solved the cycle of pain and illness resuming every couple of years. Blueberry stayed with me, and Blackberry stayed with and comforted my Dad a great deal during that time, as throughout the weeks of my decline he tried to convince me to stay alive.
The time came when I was in so much pain that I could no longer even sleep, and my Dad came to me to try and convince me to turn my health around one more time. I said I would try, as I just wanted to be free of pain only enough to sleep. What it took was four years of dialysis, and over those four years a very long process of additional procedures and surgeries which I had been trying to avoid. My Dad’s guidance and cuddling with Blueberry and/or Blackberry were the only sources of support that gave me the strength to eventually earn another kidney transplant, and take the chance that in being meticulous about what next to pursue, I would be able to fix the residual conditions and defeat the pain I had been in for many years.
Then Blueberry came back one day after her outdoor explorations shaking like she was having a seizure. We had no idea what had happened, did she come into contact with something that hurt her?, or poisoned her? It started with her shaking just a little bit each day, then it became more severe and lasted longer. I was in no shape to help at this time, so my Dad took her in to see a vet, and the vet didn’t know exactly where it had come from. The year was 2013, which means The Berry Twins were only five years old. The vet did say that fatal seizures can occasionally just occur in a five-year-old cat. We kept her at home for observation, and one day we woke up to find she had passed away. All of us were upset, and we buried her in the backyard, and from time to time we saw Blackberry coruching over his sister’s grave. We started paying more and more attention to Blackberry so all of us could grieve together.
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Webinar: A Conversation on Pet Loss with Author E.B. Bartels
Join us for this exciting event
In honor of Rainbow Bridge Memorial Day (August 28), we are offering a 20% discount on Silver and Platinum memberships throughout the entire month of August. By joining us, you will have the unique opportunity to create a lasting online memorial for your pet, complete with photos and stories you can cherish.
Navigating Pet Loss & Grief, hosted by Moose’s
March, this webinar is designed to support pet
owners through the difficult journey and depth of
pet loss, anticipatory grief and understanding
guilt. This webinar will also provide 3 key
takeaways for the management of grief,
Featuring insights from renowned experts
Colleen Rolland, Association of Pet Loss and
Bereavement and Dr. Nancy Curotto, Pet Loss &
Bereavement Specialist. Attendees will have an
opportunity to ask questions of the experts.
We understand that the holidays can be a difficult time for pet parents missing their fur babies. APLB will be extending our hours this year to help you – we’ll get through this together.
Sun Dec 24: 2 – 4 pm EST
Sun Dec 24: 8 – 10 pm EST
Mon Dec 25: 8 – 10 pm EST
Tues Dec 26: 8 – 10 pm EST
Wed Dec 27: 8 – 10 pm EST
Fri Dec 29: 8 – 10 pm EST
Sun Dec. 31: 2 – 4 pm EST
Sun. Dec 31: 8 – 10 pm EST
Mon Jan 1: 8 – 10 pm EST
Sat Dec 9: 7- 9 pm EST
Sun Dec 10: 7- 8:30 EST
Sat Dec. 23: 7 – 9 pm EST
This year the Association of Pet Loss & Bereavement (APLB) is participating in Giving Tuesday, December 3rd. Giving Tuesday is a global generosity movement, unleashing the power of people and organizations to transform their communities and the world.Â
Please give generously. Together, we can make a difference in the lives of those grieving the loss of their cherished pets.
This year the Association of Pet Loss & Bereavement (APLB) is participating in Giving Tuesday, on December 3rd. Giving Tuesday is a global generosity movement, unleashing the power of people and organizations to transform their communities and the world.Â
Please give generously. Together, we can make a difference in the lives of those grieving the loss of their cherished pets.