The Bad Times
Our 18 yr old cat would be nineteen next month about the same time as I hit my thirtieth birthday and my little brother hits twenty eight, but I don't think the old guy is going to make it. For over half my years and even a larger portion of my memory this cat has been a part of our family. He is one of the last of the cats to make the move with us from the old neighborhood.
Recently I mentioned William Burroughs Last Words in furthurance of my Master Plan (to take over the world). While I always delight in sharing good literature I would also like to point out that this is one of those few works where you walk away from it with a better understanding of what it means to be the social animal we call human beings. I was so moved by this book because he, like I, had a close relationship with cats over a number of years. He accepted these beasts into his life, gave them everything he could and was always rewarded with the joy of their presence. When we lose a pet, we feel the loss as much as if we lost a friend. They are fixtures in our lives. They are the embodiment of our affections.
As I sit here by my old friend and stroke his soft fur I am reminded of my childhood. I am reminded of waking up to my brother calling me because he thought that Kitty just had kittens between his legs while we were sleeping and needed to know if he could safely move. I remember how we would take BC and his siblings out of his mothers box and watch as she would come round them up and carry em back to the box that was her lair. I remember how our cats could always sense when someone was upset and would jump in our laps and try to make things better. I remember what it was like to just spend a day, an afternoon, an hour just playing with the cats and watching in exhilaration as they ran up and down the hallway.
My parents are having an especially hard time watching the old guy go. He has been the prince of their house for many years now. My father would eat his breakfast with BC sitting in his lap. My mother would put out a special bowl of milk or on occasion spoil him with real tuna.
My cat's sickness and imminent demise comes on top of more problems with my mothers diabetic retinopathy. Shortly after waking this morning she had another bleed in her eye and can no longer read even large print books on her own. So its back to doctors to see if she should wait some more to see if it improves or risk a surgery that may or may not help her vision and may lead to more bleeds. So I'm back to reading to her when there is nothing interesting to listen to on the television and keeping her mind off her physical problems as well as trying to keep her from going into a funk over the loss of the cat.
So while I want to be funny and entertain every day, and while I want to rant and rave about injustices or idiocies or just plain stupid people, this day I could not. I could not be sarcastic to mask the loss of my friend and I can not be angry at the world when the day is so sad.
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Recently I mentioned William Burroughs Last Words in furthurance of my Master Plan (to take over the world). While I always delight in sharing good literature I would also like to point out that this is one of those few works where you walk away from it with a better understanding of what it means to be the social animal we call human beings. I was so moved by this book because he, like I, had a close relationship with cats over a number of years. He accepted these beasts into his life, gave them everything he could and was always rewarded with the joy of their presence. When we lose a pet, we feel the loss as much as if we lost a friend. They are fixtures in our lives. They are the embodiment of our affections.
As I sit here by my old friend and stroke his soft fur I am reminded of my childhood. I am reminded of waking up to my brother calling me because he thought that Kitty just had kittens between his legs while we were sleeping and needed to know if he could safely move. I remember how we would take BC and his siblings out of his mothers box and watch as she would come round them up and carry em back to the box that was her lair. I remember how our cats could always sense when someone was upset and would jump in our laps and try to make things better. I remember what it was like to just spend a day, an afternoon, an hour just playing with the cats and watching in exhilaration as they ran up and down the hallway.
My parents are having an especially hard time watching the old guy go. He has been the prince of their house for many years now. My father would eat his breakfast with BC sitting in his lap. My mother would put out a special bowl of milk or on occasion spoil him with real tuna.
My cat's sickness and imminent demise comes on top of more problems with my mothers diabetic retinopathy. Shortly after waking this morning she had another bleed in her eye and can no longer read even large print books on her own. So its back to doctors to see if she should wait some more to see if it improves or risk a surgery that may or may not help her vision and may lead to more bleeds. So I'm back to reading to her when there is nothing interesting to listen to on the television and keeping her mind off her physical problems as well as trying to keep her from going into a funk over the loss of the cat.
So while I want to be funny and entertain every day, and while I want to rant and rave about injustices or idiocies or just plain stupid people, this day I could not. I could not be sarcastic to mask the loss of my friend and I can not be angry at the world when the day is so sad.
More Laters
posted by Rich Rosenthal II at 4:02 AM
6 Comments:
I'm so sorry to hear about your sweet kitty. I grew up in the "country" and lived near a busy road, so I was no stranger to losing kitties. Still, it never ceased to make me sad or miss them less.
I've since moved to the big "city," and had a cat that a friend gave to me after she had her baby (her mother didn't want a cat in the house with a baby... the old wive's tale of a cat stealing a baby's breath et al) So, I got a kid (I call everything a 'kid,'... in a Gene Kelly kinda way, not a "let's put some crocheted booties on Mommie's widdle angelpuss's feetums" kinda way) named Risky. She was very sweet and already rather old, but she was so friendly and loving, you couldn't help but love her.
I had Risky for a little over 4 years before she died of liver failure. She was 20 years old. I reluctantly buried her in the backyard and still have the ribbon that was tied around the bouquet of flowers I put on her grave. I still miss her and like a person who loses a loved one, it took me a long time before I stopped remembering to talk to her and/or look for her somewhere in the house. Old habits die hard, I guess. I miss her company a lot. She was a good kid.
I hope everything turns out okay with your mom. Seeing a parent age and/or suffer is always a sad and stressful thing. I hope the sadness at the loss of their kitty doesn't keep them down too long. It's always sad to lose a pet, but it somehow seems twofold when it happens during a holiday or special occasion.
Best wishes.
I'm really sorry to hear about your cat, Rich. We're from a cat family too. You really expressed so well how people come to love their pets.
Kim C.
Oh no. Please hug the old guy for me. My cat died today and I can't say much about it at this point, it's too fresh.
I hope your mom's eyesight improves. I'll be thinking about you and her.
Thanks for your concern and feelings. We took the old guy to the vet today as he was a tough old cat determined to fight even when it was apparent that most of his body was shutting down on him. Mom keeps asking did we do the right thing? Would he have got better with medicine. But in the end I think we did the right thing.
:( So sad. My dog died when I was a teenager and I don't think I'll ever have another pet--way too painful. I hope to die before every single human being who I am close to.
i'm sorry to hear about your loss; you did the right thing. the death of a cat is just as painful as the death of a human...i dare say that species is not of concern when someone you love is gone.
most of my best friends are cats and a lot of my fondest memories are of my cats-- romping about the house, hiding in boxes, naps in the afternoon, and just their company. without cats, i don't know what i do. the sad part is that the momma cat at mom and dads is 19 this year and her three daughters are 18. it seems like only moments ago that my sisters and i took those cats to 4-H cat shows.
i hate leaving mom and dads in fear that someone will pass before i can get back home. the only comfort is knowing that those are spoiled kids who have had great lives.
so without rambling on much longer, BC lead a great life. as you said, he was the prince of your house. he couldn't have asked for a better life. he had grand memories of you and your family just as you had grand memories of him.
Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924.
Part Four: Time and Eternity
LXXXIII
THIS world is not conclusion;
A sequel stands beyond,
Invisible, as music,
But positive, as sound.
It beckons and it baffles; 5
Philosophies don’t know,
And through a riddle, at the last,
Sagacity must go.
To guess it puzzles scholars;
To gain it, men have shown 10
Contempt of generations,
And crucifixion known
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