Goodbye Friend - R.I.P. Beans

Besides the occasional goldfish and tropical fish, I never had any pets growing up. My first real introduction to having one was when we?got my son Jacob?a?dog?in June 2017. Since then, Harry has brought so much joy, and I am so grateful to have had the experience of having a pet, especially one as loving,?lovable, and fun as Harry.?

Another pet entered the scene last June, but it?was?a lot?less planned?this time. I won't go into the details, but?we ended up with a Tuxedo cat that was just a kitten?at the time. He?was adopted?from a shelter, and his official name was Uncle Leo Beans. After he came on the scene, we called him Beans.

If you had asked me if I would ever get a dog, my answer would have been, "Maybe, but probably not." If you had asked me the same question regarding a cat, I would have said, "Definitely not!"?

As John Lennon famously wrote, "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans."?

Beans entered our lives, and right away, I was smitten, especially when I saw how he and Harry interacted.

Here is a picture of Harry and Beans waiting for?what's going to?happen next at the front door.

Chilling on the bed together.

I loved Beans' incredible spontaneity and athletic prowess, such that he could almost instantly explore whatever triggered his interest or curiosity. And when it came to personal space, he couldn't have cared less as he took great pleasure getting right in my personal zone, especially when it was most obtrusive, such as being on a company video call and leaping onto my desk and then right onto my laptop so that everyone could see. Even after I would basically throw him off (remember, cats always land on their feet), he immediately hops back on to make his presence felt.?No fear or hard feelings.

Here is Beans after jumping onto my desk and making himself very much at home.?Those eyes will always be seared?into my memory. They were so powerful and represented to me the essence of deep?focus and concentration?as he would take everything in. He truly embodied the power of now.

Here is a picture of him after jumping onto my shoulders.

I'm rather proud of this next photo, as I looked like Davy Crockett because of how his tail was situated.?I'm willing to sacrifice vanity and put up a picture that, let's say,?is probably not my best to convey the humor and joy I found in this experience.

Beans loved to go outside and explore.?Whenever Heather, Harry, and I?went outside?and he was left behind, he would always go to the closest window to where we were, look out, and meow, begging for us to let him join us.

I took this picture to capture Beans looking at me after I left the house. I talked about how proud I was of the Davy Crockett picture, but this is the one I'm most proud of due to how artistic it looks and, sadly, a foreshadowing of what was to come. In this photo, if you look closely, you can barely make out the faint reflection of Beans in the window at the bottom left. It's as if he's a ghost or some apparition.?

Of course, the risk associated with cats is that they are incredibly curious and physically able to leap and get to high places, which can be dangerous and allow them to leave relatively safe places for less safe ones.

My home?is?situated?in a lovely natural area that abuts against a large ravine?that coyotes inhabit. Because Beans loved to take advantage of any door being open for more than an instant to run out, we always had to be vigilant about ensuring we shut the door quickly when we got home or if someone came to the door. Of course, we were never 100% successful, so there have been several instances when Beans would get out. Because Heather had cats growing up, she had time-tested methods for getting his attention and luring him back. We were always able to get him, and given that most of the time when he would get out, it would be during the day, it wasn't that concerning because coyotes and owls are much more prevalent at night, although we have seen the former during the day over the years. We also see?a number of?hawks flying above, but those don't concern us too much.

Unfortunately, on the?night of Jacob's birthday on April 22nd, the door was left open a bit longer than it should have been, and Beans ran out. I saw him close by the door, smelling some plants. Because cats can be skittish and have their?own?minds, I couldn't just go up to him and grab him because he would have run away. He saw my presence and ran under the car?and?into a planter where he usually goes. Unfortunately, I couldn't corner him, so Heather took over the rescue operation, and while she had him in her sights, Harry also came outside Beans knew that Harry liked to chase him, so he scampered off. We had a GPS tracker on Beans. Heather went to the app to see where he was. It looked like he wasn't moving. She went outside and unfortunately found that it had fallen off, so she was getting concerned. She opened another door, which was closer to the ravine area, and I happened to walk in as she was near the door.?She said she could hear something that didn't sound good, like?there was?some?kind of?wrestling going on, and she got a chill through her whole body, sensing something terrible.

After a frantic search, Beans was nowhere to be found, but there were signs of coyote and cat hair nearby that?were?terribly ominous. Unfortunately, Beans was never found, except for some remnants discovered by Harry, who was on sensory overload as he could detect Beans' scent. He?led Heather's daughter to parts of the ravine that confirmed that Beans had met his demise.

People who know me or have read my blog know that I am, unfortunately, no stranger to devastating loss. I was surprised in some ways by how saddened I was by the loss of Beans.?It has hit me?really?hard?such that?I have felt the need to try to understand it more.?Hence, this blog post, which is 100% being done for my?own?benefit as I have found that writing is?a great?form of therapy for me and a way to try to gain more clarity about what I'm thinking and feeling or try to tease out insights that might be buried in my subconscious and may potentially?be brought?into consciousness through the writing process.

Of course, Beans wasn't a person, so the void couldn't be the same as losing?a person. And yet, there is a void. I loved coming home and seeing him bounce up and down to greet me. He often turned on his back, signaling his trust in me and that he wanted to play. Upon seeing him, I would always say "Hello, friend" and show him affection, and in return, he would purr so happily. It was always so innocent and pure.

It was especially joyful when Harry would get hyped up upon my arrival and almost immediately?start to?attack Beans?in a playful way.?Beans would?just?roll on his back or side and handle whatever Harry gave him?with absolutely no?fear and claw back at him when he saw the opportunity to do so. I also loved?when Harry would run?after him?and Beans?would just explosively run away and leap?up?onto a table or chair to gain the higher ground.?It was so natural, authentic, and?interesting?as well. I also wonder if this contributed to Beans' lack of awareness of who his?true?predators were because he may have reacted to coyotes?similarly attacking him?as he did with Harry, which was not from a place of?fear,?but one of playfulness. Who knows? I can speculate all I want looking for answers, but that won't bring Beans back. The only benefit such ruminations can bring is if we use?our experiences?with him in the event (probably unlikely) we get another cat so that we can take even more protective measures to help?him or her?survive in our treacherous environment. I digress.

I just loved how curious he was, and?while?he was very attached to?us,?he would?also?do his own thing. Whenever Heather and I headed up to?bed,?Harry would instantly run upstairs and jump up on the bed, showing?us there was no chance he was going to sleep anywhere else.?Beans, however, would march to the beat of his?own drummer?and eventually come up, but only when he was ready.?He, too, would?end up on the bed snuggling close to one of us, and?it was always so comforting knowing he was there, especially when we would hear him purring. On the other hand, nights were not always peaceful and carefree as there were many times when something would trigger his curiosity?and?the?next thing you?know?we hear him climbing up curtains, exploring in the bathroom, jumping onto our headboard, etc.?It was the?bewitching?hour for Beans, and there was no way we could sleep through that. And yet, something inside me found his antics?to be?so entertaining and?interesting.

When a person passes away, particularly an adult, the grief can be so painful. And yet, being people, they left behind people-type situations that have to?be dealt?with. Bank accounts to take control of, passwords to access, documents to gather, estate issues to?be managed, furniture to?be dealt?with, heirs to be contended with, legal matters to?be handled, funeral arrangements to?be made, eulogies to?be written?and assigned, and so on.?

The point is?that practical responsibilities?must?be dealt?with, which can serve as a dampener and distraction to that grief. Now, of?course, dealing?with these issues can also trigger constant reminders of the deceased, but some things absolutely?have?to?be?handled so it can numb some of the pain in the short run. Those?in charge of the situation?must "shut up, suit up, and show up." In other words, to get everything?that needs to?be done,?one must avoid complaining, do one's best to prepare to handle whatever comes their way and be fully present to handle whatever needs to?be?handled. They have a mission, and?in?many?ways,?this can be a?distraction to help from being overwhelmed by the pain of loss.

With the passing of Beans, however, it made me realize that none of those collateral issues need to?be handled. It's just a pure void.?One moment?he?is here?and?the next one?he's?not?and?there are no associated responsibilities resulting from his passing.?All that remains is the shock, sadness, and despair of something so innocent and beloved, leaving us in an instant with no need to handle any of the collateral issues associated with the passing of a human. Of course, over time, these emotions of despair will most likely be replaced by beautiful memories and powerful inspirations of gratitude and joy that we were so lucky to have him in our lives, even for such a short time.

Harry seems to feel the?void we are feeling as well.?He is always looking for him, going to places where Beans would usually be, but to no avail.?Here is a picture of him outside that?isn't?one of his happier moments.?And while we may be projecting our feelings onto Harry, it does feel like he is far more subdued than?normal.

This post?is in no way intended?to compare the passing of a pet with that of a human.?What?I am trying to?do is?engage in a deeper inquiry into my psyche?to better understand?why I have periodic feelings of deep sadness and regret. It also reinforces for me the?age-old?adage that it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. We had Beans for about 10 months, and he left a profound impact on me, for which I will forever be grateful.

One of the things that gnaws at me is that I feel like I let Beans down and didn't protect him when he was most exposed.?We all want to protect those we love, so?when it feels like we?didn't,?it's extremely painful and?very?hard to shake.?I know it's nature and the circle of life, but it still feels like I could have done more. Time does ultimately heal, so I know?that this?feeling will also subside and?be alchemized?into something more positive and helpful.

What?I loved most about Beans was how he constantly showed me how he could live so spontaneously and instinctively. He was always intent on following the next clue, and wherever that took him, then so be it.?Harry is different in that he is much more predictable, and?most of his choices revolve around being close to us or people who come to the house.?Beans was much more variable in his actions. One moment, he would be chilling alone in a dresser drawer or on the couch, and the next, he would?be clawing?at furniture to climb up it, much to our?consternation. Another time, he would jump onto the counter as I was trying to make something to eat or follow me so closely and intently when he saw me opening a tuna can for him.?Even the inability to train him and have him respond to his name bred fascination and entertainment for me.?He was so fun, engaging, curious, spontaneous, beautiful, and loving.

Most importantly, he was easy to love and beautifully opened my heart. After all, isn't that the essence of being human??To have our hearts opened?so?that we can feel the overwhelming power of love, so?that our souls shine, even if this vulnerability can inevitably lead to pain through loss or disappointment?

I?really?am so grateful for the time I had with him, and yet?the loss is real, and the void is deep. Of course, it will heal as no one is immortal, so if?we live long lives invested in others, including pets, then loss is inevitable.?It's?up to us to find the meaning of that loss and try to integrate it into the most helpful and healthy ways. This?is what I'm trying to do by indulging in this post.?

When I watched Beans, he embodied?Joseph Campbell's?notion of following one's bliss.

Here is what he said about that.

This means to pursue that which inspires one with a sense of wonder and

connectedness, full of the rapture of life. It doesn’t mean pursuing simple

materialistic happiness or middle-class (even academic-class) fulfillment,

though it may incidentally result in those. Bliss is a technical term in

Buddhism, ananda, for being enraptured in enlightened wonder and living

in harmony with truth and being. This doesn’t mean being narcissistic in

the sense of being concerned only with one’s own happiness and

satisfaction, though it does mean following one’s own path and not

looking to “what other people think” for the measure of one’s success. It

means paying attention to what life is telling one one ought to be doing,

paying attention to the promptings of one’s soul, to the urgings of

compassion, and to one’s sense of being part of the grand process of life.

I will miss you, my friend, and thank you for all that you brought to me (as well as many others) in such a short period of time.