her photo in our family Christmas portrait because she is
always with us.
But that’s just it – the kittens were an addition to
our family and could never, ever replace Faune as a member of our family, much the way a new baby could never
dull the loss of a child. The thought of someone suggesting the latter would be met with righteous anger and
shock. To think in such a way is degrading to the family
and to the lost soul. No one, animal or person, is ever replaceable. We are all wonderfully unique, and the world is
a sadder place when a soul leaves this plane of existence.
Before we adopted again, my husband and I spent
months mourning our beloved baby. We cried, we shared
memories, I wrote poetry and got a tattoo of her paw print,
and I lost twenty pounds in this period of grief. We even
painted the clay paw print given to us by the outstanding
veterinary hospital, which treated us with the utmost respect and dignity on that saddest of days. We also celebrated Dia de Los Muertos, which is a tradition honoring
the deceased and remembering them in happier times. It
was a special day. I felt her presence with us, that the
space between our dimensions was temporarily nonexistent. We lit candles and sat in the quiet, communing.
We did not simply adopt our newest furbabies to
heal the loss. The loss will always be there. With time, the
pain lessens but never dissipates. There are days when all
I can think about is how she would chew my hair as she
lay on my chest or meowed down the hall. I recall the
crook of her tail, the amazing coloring of her coat, the lov-