I think I look older today. Upon arising just after 11 am or so, I looked in the mirror only to see, so intrusively upon my face, weariness. My eyelids even look droopier. Could it be from losing you yesterday? I think so. You are the fifth kitty I've had to say goodbye to in the last four years... fourth in the last sixteen months. And I honestly didn't think I'd be this emotional. Let's face it, out of the nine months I cared for you (and by "cared for" I mean, provided you food and shelter), you weren't exactly jumping into my lap and begging for affection.
You made your boundaries known early on and I understood your guardedness; I was happy enough just knowing you knew where to go for warmth, safety, and food. And after trying to find your owners online, I eventually came to the conclusion that you had indeed been abandoned, like so many before you.
Six weeks ago you finally asked me for help. I guess you were feeling pretty bad at that point and, at long last, had come to the end of yourself. But having so many other cats, and seeing how sick and crusty nosed you were, I thought the right thing to do would be handing you over to a referred cat rescue. So, on the same day that you graced my ears with your endearing meows and allowed me the honor of petting you, I met up with this lady at a MacDonald's parking lot and passed you off to her… trusting that you would be in good hands. But my gut told me something else and I second-guessed myself immediately. I couldn't get you out of my head and even decided on a name for you while trying to sleep one night.
…ROMEO…
That's the name that wouldn't leave me. I knew then that you were mine.
Five days after the drive-thru drop off, under the guise of needing to retrieve my cat-carrier, I set out to inspect this unseen rescue, to make sure you were okay and to hopefully set my mind at ease. Needless to say, my first impression upon pulling into that driveway was not a good one. I knew immediately that I was taking you back home with me; inconvenient or not, you were coming with me.
I did my best for you. I brought you to my vet the very next day only to find out you were terminal. But it didn't matter. I was gonna love on you as long as I could until it was time to let you go. And I didn't know how much time that would be, but I figured I'd be better prepared, already knowing you may not last that long.
It took just over two weeks before you were voluntarily climbing into my lap from on top of the desk and OH, how joyous I was when that happened!
And I truly loved how quick you were to settle right into my lap when I’d place you there myself. I was sure to document the various ways in which we carried on in our new “lapping rituals,” capturing every which way possible, even including a little TV time, as well. What can I say? I was a proud mom and proud moms take pictures.
It took forty days before you chose to actually jump up, into my lap, and I was so glad to have captured that very moment on video. Sadly, after that momentous milestone, six days later you were gone. But within those six days you really started to show me who you were. Following me around and crying for me every time I stepped into the other room for something. I couldn't work in my flower garden without you right there in the window, hollering for my attention! Oh that voice… that sweetly pathetic, tend-to-me-now voice… So dramatic and desperately demanding! So short lived, but I loved every second!
And as long as I’ve known you, your tail thumping has always been a consistent trait that I will forever cherish. That tail of yours clearly had a mind of its own; as windshield wipers are to water, so was your tail to left-over kitty treats on countertops. Anything left in the way of your tail’s wrathful sway, was sure to become messy projectile. (I’ll miss that tail, but not the clean-ups.)
It feels so strange, suddenly not tending to your every need… one minute you're here, the next you're not; it's an odd feeling and death is a strange phenomenon, one which none of us can evade. I do realize that all the time and energy I was devoting to you took away from the attention I would normally give all my other furry beloveds. So, maybe it's best that you had to depart when you did, because the others who are still here need me too. But I'm still sad that you had to go. I hated having to say goodbye so soon. And, despite what I told myself, having previous knowledge of your condition failed to lessen my sorrow; I was a big ol’ crybaby, a sobby mess, and I didn’t want to say goodbye.
I hope you know how loved you were when you breathed your last, as I held you in my arms with your head resting in the palm of my hand. I think you did…
NO… I know you did.
The looks you gave me these last few days assured me of our bond.
Thank you for your trust…
Thank you for your love…
Parting is such sweet sorrow, my dear sweet Romeo, until I meet up with you again… You will always have a special place in my heart.
Because Substack changed its format somehow I missed this post. I’m so sorry for this loss and all the others the past four years. I can relate to your sorrow. From December 21, 2022 to October 30, 2023 I have lost four of my fur friends. Three cats and my mini schnauzer. I was left with one cat until last week when I rescued a little 4 year old schnauzer. Now I await the next cat to wander into my life as they always seem to do. I do look forward to your stories and hope you continue to post them.