Years ago, before my husband and I were even married, I was ‘forbidden’ by him to go to the local animal shelter anymore. Yes, I used to stop at any and every shelter that I happened to pass, just to see the animals, hear their stories, play with them, dream about the day when I would begin to take them all home with me. But the reason for the ban? An American Bulldog named Chicky. He was a mess. Needless to say, I have a bit of a reputation for being a sucker for an animal in distress. Or any animal, for that matter. I love animals. Passionately. I blame it on my mother. As a child, we were not allowed to have pets. So as soon as I was on my own, I started collecting my own menagerie. And while I began with those of the feline persuasion, I always knew I was meant to have dogs. Lots and lots of dogs.

But, back to the cats…

Last weekend was a bad one. A dog that we took in and loved as our own killed one of my cats. A cat that I’d had since just after college. He was a sweet thing, grey and white. Only had three legs. Now that’s a story. Rumor has it as a kitten, his entire litter of siblings was killed by a tomcat, who was the father. And he was the sole survivor, only losing one of his back legs.

I found him at a friend’s New Jersey farm. He was in the barn. He was a blur of fur, as he ran around like a lunatic. I couldn’t believe he only had three legs. He was that fast.

The whole thing happened so fast. I’m so sure that there was no suffering on Ahab’s part. And I’m going to keep telling myself that. But, still. It was heartbreaking to get into the room, pull an enormous Boxer off of my tiny cat and then try to save him. The cat, I mean. It was too late. And to say I was hysterical would be a big understatement. I was crushed. Devastated. Beyond reason.

So, the dog is back with his original family. My little Ahab was put to rest. I shed a lot of tears, had quite a bit of explaining to do to my kids. And slowly, we resume a normal life around here.

I didn’t know how to deal with my grief. But my husband managed to put it all into perspective. Domingo’s actions were a sign of the pain that he could inflict, and thank God we didn’t find that out after he bit one of our children. So, Ahab? He took one for the team. He is our little hero, he really and truly is. He let us see a side of this previously sweet dog that we didn’t know existed. It made the decision to send him back to his ‘other’ family an easy one to make. And parting with animals? Has never, ever been easy for me.

But my heart? It is so heavy. So very, very heavy. Rest in kitty heaven, little Ahab. We miss you…