05/09/2017
Have you ever felt your pet's presence after they're gone? Did you later doubt it was real, or even think you were a bit nutty? Well, you're not alone. Read Wade Breunig's story about his cat, Bubba, and how his presence comforts him still.
If you've had a similar experience you'd like to share, I'd love to hear it.
Dr. Kristi
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Bubba came to me when my life was in a very dark place. I had just gotten divorced, lost my job, and lost my house. To be entirely honest, I had also lost my will to live. But this amazing little black cat stood by me and loved me unconditionally as I fought through an incredibly deep depression. Slowly, but surely, he taught me how to care for something again. He taught me how to live again. And he taught me the meaning of unconditional love. He also taught me never to leave him alone with a 6 ounce bag of catnip stashed in the cupboard above the fridge.
Bubba was my best friend for 14 years. My love affair with this little black fur ball began in December of 2002. I was feeling incredibly sad and lonely one Saturday morning, when I somehow summoned up the strength to get my depressed butt off the couch and drive to the Columbia County Humane Society. I told the lady at the counter that I was looking for a feline friend, and that the first kitty who 'talked' to me was coming home with me. As soon as she led me into the cat area, this annoying little black cat started hollering at me like there was no tomorrow. The stupid thing just wouldn't shut up. I asked her, “What’s the deal with the irritating little black one?” She just laughed and said, "Oh, that's Bart, he's 2 years old, and he's been with us almost 6 months now. He just wants to get out of here so bad.!" I took one look at him and said, "Today's your lucky day, Bart, you're coming home with me.” an hour later I took him home, renamed him Bubba, and the annoying little fur ball didn’t shut up for next 14 years.
In addition to his non-stop talking, Bubba was unique in a million ways. He loved being petted, but he hated being held. He would come when you called his name, and he would run to the door and greet people when the doorbell rang. I’m pretty sure he thought he was a dog. He also loved to go on car rides. I used to load him up in my truck and we would drive around town for hours. He loved to sit up on the dashboard and people watch. We would always end our rides with a trip through one of the local fast food drive thru’s, where I took great pleasure in seeing the stunned looks on the employees faces as we pulled up to the window and Bubba stuck his head out. Taco Bell was always his favorite, because I’d give him a few of the cheese sprinkles from my tacos.
Bubba was a world class escape artist, who could get into or out of anything. We affectionately referred to him as Houdini, for his uncanny ability to get in and out of the most perilous predicaments. Being a petite 10 pound puma has its advantages (and disadvantages). Throughout the course of his 9 lifetimes, I spent countless hours coaxing him and/or extracting him out of trees, heating vents, cupboards, basement piping, suspended ceilings, and countless other conundrums.
Of course, having a black cat in the house is a convenient luxury in October, because you have a permanent Halloween decoration. But like a lot of cats, Bubba’s favorite holiday was always Christmas. He never bothered the Christmas tree much, but he absolutely LOVED to play with garland. We have a large plastic tote full of various colored Christmas garlands, and he would go CRAZY when he saw me open it up every year. He would dive into it and play with it for hours on end. Then once he exhausted himself, he would fall asleep in the pile for a few more hours. Trying to hang the garland was usually a week long process with Bubba in the house.
Bubba was a laugh-a-minute character who was loved (and loved back) by everyone who knew him. He was a favorite of everyone who visited our home. He lived and loved with a youthful exuberance until his very last day on this earth. This was especially impressive since Bubba suffered through debilitating intestinal issues for much of his life. He never let it slow him down though, and he never let it put a damper on his love for action, adventure, and life itself. With Bubba sitting on my lap, I spent many late nights scouring the internet for information and hoping to find a miracle cure for best buddy. My wife and I got opinions and recommendations from several different veterinarians. We tried several different medications, supplements, and foods. Through trial and error, we were able to find a few things that helped a little, but nothing ever helped a lot.
In September of last year, things started to take a turn for the worse. One day in late September I noticed some blood in his litter box and I watched him doubled over in pain while trying to climb back up our steps. These issues got progressively worse over the next few days. Cats are masters at hiding their pain, and when I noticed he could no longer tolerate his disease, it absolutely ripped my heart out. For a while I tried to deny the fact that my little buddy was starting to go downhill fast. I shared a bond with Bubba that I have never shared with any other pet, and I just couldn't bear the thought of living life without him . With some loving and compassionate convincing from my wife, however, I finally came to the realization that the time had come to ease Bubba’s pain, and I had to let him go to a better place. The best place. As painful as it was for me, I owed that to my best friend.
After a couple days of agonizing thought and research, I made the decision to contact Dr. Kristi Arnquist of Homeward Bound Veterinarian Service. I experienced a very peaceful and comforting feeling when I looked over her website, and I really wanted Bubba to be able to begin his journey to the Rainbow Bridge from the comfort of his favorite spot in our home. After speaking (mostly crying actually) with Dr. Arnquist on the phone for a few minutes, I was convinced that she was the right one to help us ease Bubba’s pain. I will never forget the kindness, compassion, and empathy shown to us by Dr. Arnquist during the final few days we shared with our little buddy. I could live 9 lifetimes and never be able to thank her enough for all that she did to make Bubba’s passage from our world such a gentle, peaceful, and profoundly moving experience.
October 6th, 2016 was a gorgeous autumn day in Spring Green. Somewhere around 8 am I woke up to the familiar sound of Bubba’s non-stop chattering. We promptly strolled to the kitchen together, where I opened up an entire can a tuna fish for him. You see, today was Bubba’s last day on earth, and we were gonna do this thing right! After devouring half the can in record time, we went outside and walked around the yard for about an hour or so. I took a few pictures and recorded a couple videos, but mostly I just tried to soak in and cherish the last few hours I had with my friend. We had a great walk and we had a great talk. We shared a lot of memories and a lot of laughs. We also shared an awful lot of tears. Then we went back in the house to finish off that can of tuna. After a couple hours of quality lap time and heavy petting, it was time for us to load up and take one last fast food drive-thru trip. My daughter Rachel and I loaded up Bubba and headed to Culver’s to get some lunch. I had a fish sandwich, my daughter had a cheeseburger, Bubba had a small dish of vanilla custard, and the Culver’s employees had a look of shocked disbelief as we pulled up to the window and Bubba tried to jump through it! It took a lot to make me laugh on this day, but this classic Bubba moment had me giggling uncontrollably all the way home.
Once we got back to the house, Bubba had a couple nibbles of my fish sandwich, and then devoured a sizable amount of his vanilla custard. He had plenty left over though, so he shared some with his kitty brothers Max and Frankie. He also shared some with his doggie sister Tessa, and his doggie brother Oscar. It was a very special moment amongst our furry family members, and much needed at the time, as my grief over Bubba’s pending exit was beginning to overwhelm me. Thankfully about this time my wife Colleen arrived home from work and was able to spend some quality time with Bubba. Even though he was ‘my boy’, I always got the feeling that he may have liked her better. I know he liked her lap better. One of my favorite memories of that day was watching my wife and Bubba share their final moments together out in our yard. She was such a good mommy to him, and even though her heart was breaking as much as mine was, the final few moments they shared together that day were truly magical and heartwarming.
My wife and I were outside with Bubba, when Dr. Arnquist pulled into our driveway around 2:30 pm. I suddenly felt a pain in my heart like nothing I had ever felt before. Even though I felt incredibly blessed that we had several days to say our goodbyes to Bubba, I just wasn’t ready for our friendship to end. In my mind I kept replaying the words from the day before, when a friend told me that the least selfish thing you can ever do is to let your pet go when it’s their time. I didn’t really understand those words at the time, but later that afternoon I would come to understand it perfectly.
Words could never express how peaceful, gentle, tender, and loving Dr. Kristi was with Bubba. Her heartfelt caring and compassion made his final moments with us a profoundly moving and beautiful experience.
At 3:12 pm, with my wife and I sitting by his side, Bubba began his journey to the Rainbow Bridge from his favorite spot on our love seat. His pain was finally gone, and he was on his way to a better place. The best place.
After we had said our final goodbyes, Bubba left our home with Dr. Arnquist. As they pulled out of our driveway, I was overwhelmed with a flood of emotions. A part of me was incredibly relieved that my friend and was no longer suffering, and was now in a better place. But most of me was devastated by the realization that I would never see my best buddy again. I was just numb. Then suddenly my mind started replaying the words spoken to me 14 years ago, by the kindhearted volunteer at the Humane Society on the day that I adopted Bubba. After I had signed all of the paperwork, she looked lovingly into my eyes and said, "I didn't want to tell you this earlier, but Bart was scheduled to be put down next week, and you just saved his life." But as I stood there in my driveway with tears pouring down my face, it suddenly dawned on me. I didn't save Bubba's life. He saved mine.
The rest of that evening is just a blur. I remember my wife and I taking our dogs down to the park to get our minds off of Bubba, but other than that I don't remember much. I was trying hard to be strong for my wife, but I was experiencing pain like I've never felt before. Bubba and I had shared every single moment in each others lives for the past 14 years, and now there were no more moments left. I was completely devastated. Outwardly though, I stayed strong and managed to put on a fairly happy face, until my wife went to bed around 10 o'clock. After she fell asleep I sat down in the living room and cried my eyes out for the better part of 3 hours. I just couldn't stop. At one point, in an effort to comfort myself, I went downstairs and found a couple of Bubba's old toys, including a little stuffed birdie that makes an unmistakable (and incredibly annoying) chirping sound when it's batted around. He used to slap that thing around the house for hours on end. He was obsessed with it, and it used to drive my wife crazy. After a couple hours of non-stop chirping she would holler, “Would you please take that damn thing away from him!” I would laugh and take it away from him. Then I'd hide it. But no matter how well I hid it, he would eventually find it... and the entire bird chirping circus would start all over again. On the night that Bubba left us, I spent my last waking hour sitting silently in the darkness, and holding onto his birdie for dear life. My last thought, as I set it down on the end table and went to bed, was how I would give anything to hear that annoying little birdie chirping just one more time.
What happened next is the most incredible, unexplainable, and inspirational experience of my lifetime.
At approximately 6:20 am, as I was sound asleep in bed, I was awakened by the unmistakable sound of Bubba's birdie. I am not a morning person, so it takes a LOT to wake me up at that time of day. For a minute or two I just laid there, half asleep, listening to the birdie chirping over and over and over again. It sounded much louder than I had ever heard it before, but there was no doubt that it was his birdie. I've never heard a real bird chirp like his birdie toy does, and if one ever did my wife would probably shoot it. After a couple minutes of listening to the non-stop chirping, my brain began to wake up. I starting smiling as I thought to myself, 'Awww, Bubba found his little birdie.' Then suddenly it hit me. BUBBA ISN'T HERE ANYMORE! I jumped out of bed and ran to the living room, thinking that one of our other cats must be playing with the birdie. But when I got to the living room, the birdie was sitting silently on the end table, exactly where I had placed it when I went to bed. Yet the unmistakable chirping sound continued to play, over and over and over.
After a few moments of confusion, it finally dawned on me that the sound wasn't coming from Bubba's birdie, it was coming from the deck outside of our bedroom window. I ran back to the bedroom and looked out the window, almost certain that I would find a bird chirping away on the deck railing. But there wasn't a bird in sight. There was nothing in sight. Only the familiar sound of Bubba's birdie, continuing to chirp away, over and over and over again. I sat there staring through the open window in shock and disbelief. I could see exactly where the sound was emanating from on our deck, less than six feet away from me, but there was nothing there. The chirping continued on and on an on for another two minutes or so, while I just sat there in total bewilderment, gazing at absolutely nothing making the sound of Bubba's birdie. Then, just as abruptly as it had started, it stopped.
I continued staring blankly out the window for another hour or so, completely paralyzed by the thoughts and emotions that were racing through my head. I just kept thinking to myself. Did that really happen? What just happened? Where did that sound come from? How did that happen? How is this possible? Why did this happen to me? Who did that? Was that Bubba? Was that divine intervention? Did I just witness a miracle? Was that God?
I tried going back to sleep, but I couldn't. All of these questions just keep rushing through my mind, and I was really struggling to make any sense out of what just happened. I kept replaying things over and over in my mind, searching for some kind of answer or logical explanation. There was none. I finally got up and was instantly greeted by our 'fat cat' Max, who was furiously pawing at the patio door. It was a beautiful sunny fall morning, and as he often does on warm days, Max wanted to go outside and roam around on the deck for a while. Actually, 'roam' is probably not the correct term. Max goes on the deck to find a comfortable lawn chair and 'sit'. He's very good at it. Sometimes he can do it for hours. But this morning was different. Instead of seeking out his favorite chair as always, Max walked over to the exact spot where I had heard Bubba's birdie chirping from a couple hours earlier and just stood there looking at something. He stared at it, sniffed it, pawed at it, and rubbed up against it for the better part of 20 minutes or so. The only problem was, there wasn't anything there. It was incredibly eeiry, but it was also kind of comforting, as I felt that Max was in some way reconfirming that I wasn't losing my mind.
I left Max out on the deck and came into the house to get ready for work. My mind was racing and I just kept replaying every moment of that morning in my mind. I am a person who tries to find a logical explanation for everything, but as I searched my mind over and over again, I could not find a logical explanation for the events of that morning. It was about this time that I remembered a conversation that my wife and I had with Dr. Arnquist the day before. She had told us a few stories about pets 'communicating' with their owners after they had passed on, and that as vocal as Bubba was in life, we shouldn't be surprised if he somehow tried to communicate with us after he was gone. I believe her words were, “watch for signs” or something to that effect. In all honesty though, I just thought she was telling us these things to help ease our pain after losing Bubba. Never in a million years did I think something like this would actually happen! So many thoughts continued to overwhelm my mind.
As I pulled out of the driveway to leave for work, I starting thinking to myself, I should call Dr. Arnquist and tell her this story. Then I thought... no way, she will never believe this. Nobody is ever going to believe this. A few seconds later my phone rang. It was Dr. Arnquist. Could this day get any stranger? I don't remember much about our phone conversation, other than me rambling hysterically about everything that had happened earlier that morning. My mind was cluttered with so many thoughts and feelings, and everything inside of me just came pouring out on Dr. Kristi. I just went on and on and on about how I thought Bubba had communicated with me that morning. I was fairly certain that I just kept repeating myself and wasn't making any sense. At one point I remember thinking to myself, I've just gotta stop talking or this lady is going to think I'm insane. Yet after all of my incoherent ramblings about Bubba and his birdie, I will never forget the words that Dr. Kristi said to me once I finally gave her a chance to speak. With an unforgettable calmness in her voice she simply stated, “Bubba gave you a gift, and you should cherish it.” Then she reassured me by adding, “I told you not to be surprised if something like this happened,” almost like she expected for something like this to happen. As scattered and shattered as I was I was feeling that morning, the words she spoke suddenly overwhelmed me with an incredible sense of peacefulness and gratitude, because I realized that she was right. I don't know how, and I don't know why, but Bubba had given me a gift. A truly unbelievable and unexplainable gift.
It's now been 7 months since Bubba left us, and not a day has gone by that I haven't pondered the chirping of his birdie the following morning. I have analyzed and replayed the events of that morning thousands of times, but I'm just as mystified today as I was on that day. As hard as I've searched to find a rational explanation, I simply cannot. Maybe that's the way it's supposed to be, because that's how faith works. I don't know? What I do know, is that there are just too many unexplainable and undeniable facts for my experience to be considered a random happening. I truly believe that my experience was a result of some type of divine intervention. I'm not going to pretend I know how God works, because I don't, but I've always been told that he's merciful and works in mysterious ways. It is my belief that God saw me suffering terribly over the loss of my best buddy and sent me an unmistakable sign to comfort me. Or as Dr. Krist so eloquently stated, he sent me a gift. The greatest gift I've ever received, and a gift that has truly changed my life. I don't know what I did to deserve this gift, but I'm 100% certain that God wanted to ease my pain by letting me know that Bubba arrived safely at the Rainbow Bridge, and that he would be waiting for me when it's my time to go.
Prior to this experience, I believed in the possibility of life after death, or heaven, or whatever you wish to call it. After this experience, however, I am now convinced that this life is not the end for any of us. My hope is that my story will provide a level of peace and comfort to those who have lost someone or something that you have loved with all of your heart. Live a good life, be kind to all living things, and I am certain that you will be reunited with your loved ones when this life is over. And if someday you find yourself at the Rainbow Bridge, be sure to say hello to a little black cat named Bubba. You can't miss him. He'll be the loud one in the tree, wrapped in garland, eating ice cream and Taco Bell.
