
Last week, I opened a kitchen cupboard and discovered 26 cans of cat food and other cat treats that I had purchased the day before I discovered my cat, Jem, dead at the top of my stairs in November 2024. The expiration date for the canned food was October 2026. I told myself that I needed to donate this food soon to the local animal shelter where I had first adopted Jem in November 2010.
As luck would have it, yesterday morning someone posted on my town’s Facebook page that she had come across several stray cats and needed cat toys, beds, food, etc. I responded to her and boxed up all the food for her daughter to pick up.

Moments later, I noticed the bare cupboard and immediately began to cry. Jem had died, but he was really gone. I was forlorn the rest of the day.

Later, I cried myself to sleep. Jem had died alone. I wasn’t there. I know that pets sometime pass away when their caregivers are not there because of natural hiding instincts when they feel weak or vulnerable. Jem had spent the morning in my lap, purring. There was no indication that he would die two hours later while I was at a medical appointment.

After falling asleep, I dreamt about Jem under the bedcovers with me. He wasn’t, of course, but it felt like he was. Was he checking in to see if I was okay? Was he letting me know that he was at peace?

Yes. No. Probably. It’s been months since I’ve felt Jem this close. I was reminded of “The Loved Ones,” a poem by Wendell Berry that I posted here not long ago:
The loved ones we call the dead
depart from us and for a while
are absent. And then as if
called back by our love, they come
near us again. They enter our dreams.
We feel they have been near us
when we have not thought of them.
They are simply here, simply waiting
while we are distracted among
our obligations. At last
it comes to us: They live now
in the permanent world.
We are the absent ones.
“And then, as if called back by our love, they come near us again. They enter our dreams. We feel they have been near us when we have not thought of them.”








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