Knit Me A Straightjacket

Name:
Location: Wild West, United States

Thursday, April 19, 2007

Saying Goodbye

My cat died. I know, I know, who cares. I hate it when people blog about their cats. So call me a hypocrite and bite me while you're at it. He was my friend for a long time, and I miss him.

If you don't want to hear about it, stop reading now.

He was with me for ten years. I got him before I was married, and before I had kids. He was my surrogate baby before I was ready to have real ones. He helped me get through the baby cravings that were gnawing at me. You moms (and others) out there know what that's like.

One time when my husband was out of town, and I was feeling really sad and lonely, he curled up on my pillow and let me rest my head on his flank. He stayed there for hours.

When I did decide to start a family, he was the first one who knew I was pregnant. His behavior changed, he followed me around, and at one point put his paw on my arm and looked deep into my eyes as if to say: "Do you want to talk?" I went to work the next day and told my friends: "I think my cat is trying to tell me something." Sure enough, I was pregnant. The day I went into labor, he knew. He stuck to my side and wouldn't leave me. That night, labor started.

He never really forgave me for having human babies, but eventually he transferred his resentment from me to them. There were conflicts, but it was still worth it. He still gave me something special that I couldn't get anywhere else.


He used to go on walks with me. If I went out, sometimes he would come along - not like a dog, more like a friend.

He slept with me every night, under the covers, curled up in the nook behind my knees. His fur was so soft on my bare skin. He was warm, and I could feel him purring.

He was old, and he was sick. I bought him 16 mostly good months by giving him subcutaneous fluid injections, special food, and at the end, medication mixed into baby food and hand-fed.

The last time he tried to tell me something was Wednesday morning, yesterday. I was holding him like a baby, his head resting on my breast. He looked up at me and asked me to let him go. He was done. We went to the vet and she put him down. It was quick and painless (for him) and I was with him to the end. I brought him home and washed him, with baby soap in the sink. I dried his fur and clipped his nails. I laid him down in a box on soft towels, and let the other cat say his goodbyes.

The kids were upset - this is their first conscious experience with death. My son wanted to do something nice for him, and came up with the idea of making a nice soft pillow for him to rest on. He chose a beautiful red velvet and some fancy trimmings, and I made the pillow - more like a little mattress. We stuffed it with wool, because he always loved to nest in my wool. The pillow had gold fringe all around and gold trim in a window-pane pattern on the top. It turned out really lovely. I'm glad I did it for him. We covered him with another piece of the red velvet, put the lid on the box and tied it with ribbons left over from our wedding nine years ago.

He's in the ground now, wrapped in velvet in a pretty box with ribbons on it. It hurts to think of him down there, in the cold and dark, but I know he can't feel it. I'm just glad I got to give him a loving and peaceful end. It was the least he deserved for ten years of friendship and love.

I'm so glad I got to know him, to have him in my life. I'm richer for it, and I will never forget him. I miss him so much.