Animals know things.

Late Saturday night, I realized that Punkin was missing when he didn't join the rest of the kitties for the canned kitty food I doled out. He's always one of the first ones to run into the kitchen when I open a can of cat food, and he even has his own spot on the counter where he eats it and none of the other cats mess with him. I looked all over the house for him when I realized he was missing, but couldn't find him anywhere. I figured he must have slipped out the front door at some point during the day, which he is wont to do on occasion -- my cats are not allowed to go outside, but Punkin is very sneaky and manages to escape once or twice a year. He always comes back within a day or less, however -- mainly, I think, because he refuses to relieve himself outside for some reason. He will come home, scratch on the front door to be let in, and head straight for the litter box. It's hilarious.

Anyway, I went outside to look for him first thing Sunday morning. I put some cat food out on the front porch, but he didn't come. I looked all over the front yard and down the street -- no Punkin. I looked in the back yard and was beginning to despair because I couldn't find him, and was about to go back inside when I thought to check the area where Cocoa Bean is buried (my back yard is huge and rather wild, and Cocoa Bean's grave is not immediately visible from the back door). Sure enough, there he was, just sitting by her grave. I called him, but he just looked at me and mewed, and he continued to mew while I walked over to pick him up and carry him back inside. Poor Punkin! Cocoa was his sweetheart and favorite nap buddy. He looked as if he'd just been sitting there by her grave all night long -- he wasn't all dirty and disheveled like he often gets if he's been outside for awhile, so I don't think he wandered around much. He must have gone straight to Cocoa's grave and stayed there.

It's amazing to me that animals just know things like that, and that they have the same capacity for grief and mourning that humans have.

Interestingly, none of the other cats had eaten Punkin's cat food overnight. They polished off every other morsel I had dished out, but Punkin's little dish was sitting, untouched, in his spot on the counter when he came back inside, and he ate it after availing himself of the litter box facilities.