He was just a little cat that never should have survived at birth. His
mother and all siblings died then; he was kept alive in an incubator and on
milk from an eye dropper. All from a very kind man. And the little cat did
survive...and he was raised with only dogs as friends, so that is what he
thought he was.
He came to me years later, with an ornery spirit that only a "guy" cat could
have. I would wake up tired and depressed, but he was always there at the
foot of the bed, waiting to say hi....and cry for food. He'd love to go
outside, and whine when I wouldn't let him. Now I wish I'd let him play
outside all that he wanted, and give him treats till he couldn't eat another
bite.
He was the reason I always wanted to go home at night...why
no matter what, my day was a good one. Because I knew he would be there. I
would pick him up and rub his tummy, and put my nose to his....and it would
always make me smile.
I feared that someday, I would die before he did, and my worst fear was that
no one would look after him, and he would be "put away" somewhere and die
alone.
He was a precious little beast, I used to love to roll him over on the floor
and rub his tummy. I'd say "I love you"
softly...because I knew he figured that was a given.
But he started to get sick....and I knew something was wrong.
I took him to the vet many times, pleading to get the problem fixed. I was
falsely comforted when told that nothing was wrong, and that he only needed
better food.
He finally couldn't walk, and couldn't breathe....and I knew the end was
near. I lay on the couch and held him in my arms...knowing he was dying, yet
praying it wasn't so.
I left him at the vets the next day...I stayed and petted him and told him I
loved him, thinking that he would get better with the medical help, and I'd
be back tomorrow...
to "check on him". But he died quietly two hours later.
I don't know how to make this right. I don't know how to come home
anymore...because he's not there to claim that I'm not getting his food fast
enough. I feel guilty that I might have gotten him better medical help a
year ago...that
I didn't want to see symptoms that I feared.
I do know that a minute ago, I was petting him and fussing over the only
light I had in my life. And then he was taken
from me. I cry alone, because no one feels what I do....
and I understand that.
But he was all that I had....just a little furry, loving
marmalade cat, who thought he was a dog. But I swear he could steal anyone's
heart; he sure did mine.
Maybe somewhere in the universe is a person that will read this and
understand. I still hear the bell on his collar, because he is walking into
this room to check on me, like he always did.
I loved that little guy, and I pray he is at peace...with all green woods in
which to play, and all the treats to eat
when he is done.
And maybe I'll see him again someday, and he'll jump into my arms, all
healthy and bright eyed....and we'll never be
parted again.
But until then, I'll have a hole in my heart, and I don't
know how to make the pain stop. He was all that I had.
D.