Missing My Kitty, Bubba…

bubba

We adopted this kitty when I was seven years old, and she was my first real pet.  She was adorable, sweet, and had a lot of personality.  Though her official name was Fluffy, we started calling her Bubba early on and the name stuck.  Kinda sounds like a name for a big ol’ hillbilly man instead of a small orange and white cat – poor Bubba!

As is often the case, my mom handled of much of her day-to-day care, but I like to think that she loved me best. Bubba was an indoor/outdoor cat, and sometimes my mom would try, unsuccessfully, to call her in.  I’d go out, do my special kitty call (rapid kissy-ish sounds), and Bubba would come running. Such a good girl.

Bubba liked to play with my beads, ribbon, and string, and would sometimes roll from side to side in pursuit of the object she was trying to capture.  This was incredibly cute, partly because the fur on her tummy was white and curly.  Her unique culinary “likes” included corn, peanut butter, and licking the back of postage stamps.  I guess these are fairly normal things for a young girl to offer a cat – except maybe the stamp!

I was twelve years old, and Bubba was five, when I saw her for the last time.  My mom, brother and I had to move in a life-changing “get out of a perilous situation” kind of way, and the folks that were kind enough to help us move and to take us in were allergic to cats.  They also lived in a canyon inhabited by kitty-eating coyotes, so taking Bubba with us on this move was not an option.  She was given to family friends who lived far from our new home, and I never saw her again.

The stress of the overall situation and the move was heightened by the loss of Bubba. And though a kind and wonderful family had adopted her, I was sad about Bubba.  It was a very difficult time, but at least I understood why the change was necessary.  I was worried that she didn’t understand and just felt abandoned.

It seems a little bit of that worry and sadness has stayed with me all these years, because I got teary-eyed when I recently came across this photo of Bubba and reflected back on her and on the events that pulled us apart. I hope my kitty somehow knew that we still loved her and missed her.  I hope I’ll get to see her again someday, and will be able to pet her, scratch her head, and scratch her chin to her heart’s content.

If there’s a heaven, I hope I make it there – and I hope Bubba is there to greet me…

Warm regards,
Melody

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6 Comments

  1. Posted September 13, 2011 at 10:58 am by Bad Bunny | Permalink

    It’s amazing how much joy a pet can bring. I often think of the chickens I had as a kid. I’ve yet to see one as plump and shiny. How I miss them.
    I’m sure Bubba is waiting for you somewhere – fur ball and all waiting to get tummy rubs.

  2. Posted September 13, 2011 at 7:40 pm by Evette Rice | Permalink

    Hi, Melody
    There Is a heaven and I believe that God will have our wonderful pets there awaiting our arrival. I never had a closer friend than my Pomeranian, Foxy. I shed tears every time I think about her.
    Hugs,
    Evette

  3. Posted September 13, 2011 at 8:52 pm by Melody | Permalink

    Bad Bunny,
    Thank you for your comment and your kind words. I’m sure your chickens are waiting for you, too. It sounds like they were beautiful chickens!
    Melody

  4. Posted September 13, 2011 at 8:53 pm by Melody | Permalink

    Evette,
    Thank you for commenting, and for sharing your beliefs. I believe there’s a heaven that includes pets, too, and am sure Foxy will be very happy to see you when you’re finally reunited…
    Hugs,
    Melody

  5. Posted September 15, 2011 at 7:24 am by Beth Nielsen | Permalink

    What a BEAUTIFUL sweetheart! She watching you from the Rainbow Bridge and knows that you love her, still!
    ^..^
    Beth

  6. Posted September 15, 2011 at 7:44 am by Melody | Permalink

    Beth,
    Yes, she was a beautiful cat. Thank you very much for your kind words!
    Melody