goodbye, sweet baba

We said goodbye to our beloved Waylon on Wednesday. The signs were telling us that it was time to say goodbye while we could still do it on his and our terms. Neither of us were ready, but he was. And that was really the decision.

We were able to have the hospice vet come so we could say goodbye at home and spend as much time as we needed. He fell asleep in our arms and hands to whispers of how much we love him, Millie watching nearby, and the sounds of the birds he used to chatter at coming through the window.

After he was gone, we held him for awhile longer, and Millie jumped up on the couch alongside us. She smelled him carefully, then looked up at us, from one to the other and back, a stricken look in her eyes, as if asking, "Where did he go?" The moment was both heartbreaking and beautiful, and I will never forget it for as long as I live.

I think it helped her understand what had happened, and perhaps is making the transition without him a little bit easier than if he'd left and never come back. I'm incredibly grateful that we could give that to both of them.

After Calypso died, I wrote about the idea of ‘kith’:

“If you’ve ever had a beloved animal companion, you know that deep love and that devastating grief. Yet we still sign up for that heartbreak, willingly, again and again. The word “kith” from the phrase “kith and kin” is the Old English word for “known”, and I read someone’s suggestion once that we should use the word kith for the animals we bond with so deeply. That seems right to me. To be known is to be greatly loved.”

I’ve thought a lot about the bond between Waylon and Millie Moon in the time since we first brought them home. They were kith to each other before they became kith to us — she who had been imprinted early with nothing but abandonment, and he who had been the one make her feel known.

Throughout Waylon's cancer, I've consoled myself with the thought that perhaps Waylon bonded with Millie to make sure she landed safely in a loving home where she could blossom, and that when he knew his job was done, he would be ready for rest. When he went to sleep, softly and easily, I believe she understood that she was still known.

Waylon was the sweetest, gentlest little soul -- there wasn't an ounce of fighter in him, just a caretaker's heart with an easygoing nature and the power to turn you into a puddle with just one look from those big, dark eyes. It was easy to fall in love with him at first glance, and easy to fall deeper in love with him more every single day.

And we did. Oh, how we did. Neither of us was as prepared for this goodbye as we thought we were. There really is no preparation. It's just the price we pay for this much love. And again the reminder: what is grief if not love persevering?

Rest in peace, sweet Baba. You will always be our kith, and you will always be greatly loved.