I feel sad and lost.
Sure, there's a pandemic happening and I haven't seen the vast majority of my family for more than a year now, but, to be honest, that has kind of been a perk when it comes to a few of the people I share DNA with.
The pandemic has only been a minor annoyance for me... but having to say goodbye to my cat has broken my heart.
He was an old dude. 16. He went by many names in his lifetime.. Jackson, El Presidente, Mr. Cat, Jackass... Each one earned. Each one fitting. He once managed to climb behind an air vent and make his way underneath the floorboards of my first house. "Floor cat," I told my parents. "I am going to have a floor cat now. When I sell this house, I will have to tell people, 'just so you know, this home comes with a floor cat.' And how will I even clean up his poop if he is a floor cat?" But, after about 15 minutes of crying (him) and gentle tugging (my father), he was free and my worries over whether or not a floor cat added value to a home or took it away proved to be unnecessary.
He was an expert negotiator and always got what he wanted. If I got lax in changing/washing the litter box, he would poop in my bathroom sink, or, on occasion, in the bathtub. "You really know how to get your point across," I told him after the first time he did it. "I can't even be mad at you because you have a valid complaint."
He was an overly ambitious, and then regretful, explorer. On two occasions he escaped, unnoticed, from where we were living. Both times his bravado wained when faced with the night. "Wow.. that crying cat outside sounds loud," I remember thinking to myself one night.. only to have my neighbour send me a text message the next day asking if my cat was on her back step. He was. I felt terrible for not noticing his absence.
He added a touch of himself to everything he encountered. Especially electrical cords, plastic and anything he could chew on or make holes in. He gnawed on/threw countless adapters, cables and wires. Upon climbing inside my brand new duvet cover and (assumedly) forgetting how to get back out, he shredded his way through its meagre fabric. Far too flimsy to keep him trapped for long. Nothing deterred him, except maybe tobasco sauce, which, coincidentally, also deterred me and frequently resulted in my eyes burning when I forgot I'd coated something in it. The cat, however, didn't seem to mind. He would just move on to something else.
He was my cuddle buddy. Late at night, he would jump up on to my bed and situate himself near my head, right next to my arm, and wrap his paws around it.
I knew our time was coming to a close, but I didn't know how fast that day would come. "Remember this," I would tell myself, closing my eyes and trying to take as much of it in as I could. "Soon, this will just be another moment from the past. A memory." So I took videos. I took photos. I cuddled him more often. I rubbed my face in his fur and inhaled. I kissed him often. I carried him with me when I went from room to room. I loved him hard, but I still feel like I should have loved him even harder. I should have pet him even longer. I never should have put him down.
I didn't notice anything was wrong with him. No. That isn't right. I noticed all of the things that were wrong with him, but it wasn't until after he was gone that I put all of those pieces together. Now I just feel guilt. Guilt for missing the signs. Guilt for every single one of the times I spoke to him with anything but adoration in my voice. I know he wouldn't have held a grudge. Pets are so much greater than humans in that way.. but that doesn't make me feel any better. Knowing that he was old.. knowing that his kidneys were failing.. that doesn't help much either. Logic tells me that, regardless of how quickly I'd been able to get him to the vet, his age, the issue at hand and his already declining health would have likely seen the same outcome. But my heart is still screaming that maybe it didn't have to be this way. Maybe I just failed him. Failed to keep him safe and healthy the way I should have.
All I know is that right now I feel so lost. Lost without that little asshole. Lost when I look at a plastic bag that hasn't been chewed on. Lost when I see an electrical cord without little puncture marks. Lost when I hold open the door for the dog and catch myself trying to make sure no other furry beasts make a break for it at the same time.
I remember this heart break well. I know it hurts less with time. I know the evenings I spend curled in a ball, crying as I watch a video of him purring will eventually get fewer and far between. I know that those videos will soon just cause me fondness instead of so much angst. But right now... right now I just miss my cat.
