Gay Life Volume 34, Number 8

Ben was elusive. Some of my best friends had only caught glimpses of him over the many years he was my friend. But if you were let into his inside circle you understood: He was, in fact, the best cat ever. Ben knew how to love and to listen and itís strange to think that he never talked back because I learned a lot from him, and his stares, and his cuddles. He loved books. He had a sense of humor, and a strange sense of timing. Sometimes Ben snored like an old man, which made sense because he wasnít young.

He would have turned 17 this month, but he passed away in February. His end was quick; we try to be grateful. But itís only a small consolation now, in his absence. I loved making him happy, which I like to think I did most of the time, though I now regret every minute I didnít spend with him. Or at least every minute he was awake. He was my one and only, and while I knew this was going to hurt, it was hard to predict how much. Whatís helped the most is the empathy of others; if anyone thinks mourning a pet is silly, they certainly havenít shown it.

Maggie Beetz
Editor