I lost my dear orange cat Rusty last June, and there’s something unique about the bond you share with a pet—it’s different from any human relationship. To Rusty, apart from his sister Bella, I was his whole world. He lived to be by my side, to love me unconditionally.
Whenever I had to close a door between us, he would look so heart-breakingly sad. Early on, he realized that the sound of my meditation timer meant it was time to join me. As soon as he heard the bell, I’d feel him hop onto my lap, circle around a few times, and then find the perfect spot to relax his warm, furry body against mine. He showed me what complete trust looked like. I even dedicated a yellow towel for my lap to ensure he had a safe, comfortable place.
Without fail, we developed a daily routine of sharing a quiet space together. It became our most cherished time of the day. Now, almost a year after his passing, I still place the yellow towel on my lap during meditation because I miss him so much.
I read somewhere that the depth of one’s grief reflects the depth of one’s love. Rusty touched my heart in a way no human ever could. He opened me up to deep, unconditional love, and now, to the profound pain of his loss.
One of Buddha’s core teachings is about non-attachment, not because attachment is wrong, but because clinging to things can turn natural pain into prolonged suffering. Buddha also talked about “worldly” and “unworldly” pain. I could let my grief drag me down into loneliness and sadness—this is “worldly” pain, tied to a limited perspective. But I could also use this pain as a doorway to a greater understanding.
After he passed, I cleaned up his belongings, packed away his food dish and litter box, and even shampooed the rug he had soiled during his illness. This process helped me accept that he was gone. Like all things, he was impermanent.
Looking back, I’m struck by how gracefully he faced his dying process. I believe he knew he was dying and accepted it matter-of-factly. Despite his pain, he continued his “job” of loving me until the very end. When I took him to the vet for the last time, he seemed ready, showing no fear or resistance.
When I adopted Rusty, I had no idea he would become such a profound teacher for me. He showed me unconditional love and taught me to live in the truth of impermanence. He taught me to let go and find peace with what I can’t control, transforming my pain from worldly suffering into unworldly insight.
I am still grieving and suspect I will for a long time. But Bella is still with me, and I think the best way to honor Rusty is to love her as he loved me. He taught me how to be a loving presence, and that’s a gift that continues to unfold for me.
Rest in peace, Rusty. I will always be grateful for everything you taught me.