Photo thanks to Jason Blackeye at Unsplash
RIP Barnabas (Barney) Hutchison, The Encourager
I think my cat died two days ago. Let me start over: I know my cat died two days ago. The reason I said “I think” isn’t because I’m stuck in the stage of grief called denial, but because it happened in such a romantic, perfectly scripted movie-ending sort of way, a way I’d never heard of before, that I have trouble believing it.
Nearly twelve years ago, Steve and I went to the local rescue shelter to get a kitten. We came home with a three-year-old neutered male named Spike (and immediately renamed him Barney). Adopting Barney was one of the easiest decisions we’ve ever made. Barney was sweet-tempered and nurturing. All the little kittens came up to him to be groomed or to snuggle in his warm comfort. The kittens would likely be adopted by others; we couldn’t let this beautiful creature be put to sleep.
The first day with us, Barney didn’t leave the protection of his litter box. The next day, he ventured to the edge of the porch. Next day, he jumped up on the banister and slid down to the patio–the last time he went down that way. Then his world grew to include our back yard. There was no stopping him after that.
Barney made the rounds in the neighborhood, walking all the way up to the main road. He had his usual route and kept to his time schedule. I’d watch him politely walk up driveways and sit on front stoops. Neighbors would tell me, “Your cat came to visit me yesterday.” He’d walk in the park beside me, wait by the garage for me to come home. Barney was an unusual cat.
He was happy with us, but one thing was missing in his life. He didn’t have little kittens to watch over and teach the ropes to anymore.
It was a bright day in Barney’s life when our neighbors rescued a little kitten from a creek and named him Trout. Although they intended Trout to be their kitten, Barney had other ideas. Trout became his little buddy. The two were inseparable but completely different. While Barney liked to roam, Trout never left our yard. They were pals for life and partners in keeping our house rodent-free.
Trout died in June, a quick and terrible death. Barney has been dying ever since. His was a slow death from a broken heart.
This is probably the last photo we took of Barney, shortly after Trout’s death. His sadness shows.
Barney steadily and slowly declined, until the last few days when his decline picked up speed. We’d been through this so recently, we knew the signs. His kidneys were shutting down. We scheduled an appointment with the vet, knowing I’d be the one to go because of Steve’s recent surgery, and knowing I’d probably come home alone.
But that last afternoon was a beautiful sunny February day. I coaxed Barney down to his happy place, our patio, one last time. I tried to brush him–his favorite thing–but he was in too much pain and couldn’t sit still. So I started to walk, slowly and serpentine fashion, to the creek, another thing he liked to do with me. He followed! For a second, I thought, Maybe he’s going to pull through. Maybe the vet can save him.
I petted his sweet head, looked into his light green eyes and shared a long blink (cat language for “I love you”). We returned to the patio. Barney walked circles around Steve and I, said goodbye to Steve. And then he set off again, by himself, for the curve of the creek, in our neighbor’s yard. He walked slowly and purposefully. He never looked back.
As I watched my sweet cat walk off into the sunset (okay, it was only about 3:00 in the afternoon), I had a thought so bizarre I hesitated to say it out loud to Steve. But I couldn’t keep it to myself.
“Barney’s going off to die,” I said. I know cats prefer to die alone, but usually they crawl into the woods or under the house in the middle of the night. Barney just left, on his own terms, with us sitting right there watching him.
He never came back.
It was the perfect ending. He said his goodbyes and he walked off. He saved me the agony of putting him down. Was this a parting gift from Barney, or–as I think–the Lord’s sweet grace to me in the midst of a long season of loss?
I’ve had a lot of pets in my life, dogs and cats. If I told you how many cats, you’d label me as a Crazy Cat Lady, so I’ll keep that to myself. Suffice it to say, I’ve known a lot of different temperaments. No question about it: Barney was the sweetest pet I’ve ever had.
I miss him. I miss them both. 
You have just shared the most heartwarming story. We love our pets with all our being. Losing them is always another piece of our hearts snipped away.
Thank you for sharing your love.
Thanks, Mary. Pets give their love to us so freely. It’s always a loss when they go.
Taryn so beautiful a story. I like cats too and miss my CiCi and Know what is like to be without them. Sorry for yours and Steve’s loss.
Thank you, Davida. So sorry about Cici. We do miss both Barney and Trout.
That’s a beautiful story that brought me to tears… how thoughtful of Barney to spare you that last vet visit. He definitely was a very special cat, I’m so sorry for your loss.
Thanks, Sandy. I know he couldn’t have understood the gift he was giving me by doing that, but I’m so thankful.
Beautifully written.
Thanks, Valerie!
I know you have had a love for cats since you were a child. I loved coming to your farm and seeing all your kitties! There are definitely special pets and I am sorry for your loss of Barney!
Thank you for sharing your story!! I love it!
Thanks, Stacey. I do love dogs, too, but I’ve always felt like I understand cats and so many people don’t get them.
What a sweet story of a beautiful cat! As I read it, my two cats were with me on my bed. I can’t imagine the day one of them leaves the other behind. They are litter mates and twins. And, while not snuggly together, definitely have a bond.
I always thought it might be hard, especially since Barney is so social, but I had no idea.
What a gift that Barney was able to walk out into the sunset to take his final breath. We had to put our 12 year old dog down on Friday and it was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. Losing a pet is like losing a family member. The grief is deep because their love was so special. So thankful for Barney and his encouragement and comfort to you for the time you had him.
Thanks, Andrea. I am so sorry you had to put your dog down. So sorry for your grief. The love of pets is so special.
Thank you, Taryn. The ending of a heartfelt love beautifully told.
Thanks, Alice. We can all relate to the loss of a pet.
oh my goodness! Sweet and heartbreaking story!!! I’m so sorry! My heart actually hurts. 🙁
Thanks, Lisa. Mine hurts, too.
Taryn and Steve I want to send some heart felt LOVE to you both over the Walking Off into The Sunset of Barney. I understand the pain your in. Please accept my HEART FELT LOVE and HUGS!! From Lori Wollenberg
Thanks, Lori, for understanding.
Taryn, thank you for sharing about Barney. I know he took your love with him into that sunset and was comforted with that love as he breathed his last breath. I hope when the time is right, you and Steve can find another loving and gentle cat.
Thanks for caring, Georgia.