from Indiana

Several years ago, when our oldest child was 9 years old, our cat Sam was hit by a car and died. I had no idea that it had happened—didn’t even realize that the cat was missing—until I received a phone call from my neighbor telling me that he had seen the cat in the street. My neighbor John, a grandfather figure to my children, had scooped up the cat and dug a hole in the backyard (there are several acres of land behind us) and buried him so we wouldn’t have deal with it.

Horrified, I told him that I needed to see immediately where the cat was buried. Upon seeing the site, I told John that we needed to dig him up. John stared at me as if I was crazy. But I insisted. You see, when I was a child, my family on five different occasions had a pet dog. And each time one died, whether it was because of an accident or illness, I was never allowed to help bury my pet or even be there for the burial. I have always had a bit of regret about that. So now that our cat had died, I wanted to allow my children to decide how they needed to grieve.

So John and I unburied the cat. We brushed him off and placed him in a box. I ran to the house and got our family together and told them as gently as I could that Sam had died. Their reactions were varied, and I remember exactly what they each said. Olivia cried and asked why it happened. Sophia said, “But I liked that cat.” Alex, predictably asked for a new cat. But Joseph’s reaction was what I guessed it would be and the reason for my demand to unbury the cat. He looked at me, not as a 9 year old child, but as a young man determined to care for his family, and said, “I want to see him.” I told him that the cat was in the back in a box and he needed to be buried, and Joseph said, “I’ll bury him. He’s my cat.”

Together we went out to the site—Olivia stayed behind, not wanting to see Sam—Joseph with a shovel in hand. We prayed over Sam and thanked God for the opportunity to have him as a pet. Then, Alex and Sophia lowered Sam into the ground. My husband and I stood back and let the children lovingly repose their pet. Then Joseph, slowly and methodically, began to shovel dirt over his body. I looked behind me and saw that even Olivia had come out to be part of our ceremony, though she stood about 20 feet from us. Everyone got to say goodbye in their own way.

Pets can be wonderful companions. But the lessons they teach us, from how to care for others to how to grieve for a loved one, are powerful life-long lessons that every child needs to learn.

This is one of my favorite memories. Our neighbor John came up to me afterward and told me, “Amy, you are raising some pretty tough kids.” Tough, as in able to handle tough situations—not hard-hearted. It was then I started realizing that I needed to be deliberate with raising my children, not just let it happen. (As a side note, my children never knew that I dug up the cat…until now. They read this over my shoulder and are cracking up.)