I'm staring at my feet. I shouldn't be able to, shouldn't be in flip flops as I nurse a sidecar and watch the cars pass below. My toes are nearly numb now but I want to see the long, deep scratches on my feet. That were on my feet. Now they're thin, peeling scabs, nearly gone.
They're the last scratches my cat ever gave me. Now I'm watching them heal and fade.
I knew it was coming. Of course I did. I'm the oracle I always see it coming. Check my search history. You'll find cat cremation six months back. It didn't matter. She had a checkup a month ago. I called the vet as soon as she had symptoms and kept calling even as he told me again and again she was just constipated. She would be fine.
She wasn't. She died of liver failure in my arms. She cried into my shoulder then tucked her head under my chin as she shook. We wouldn't have made it to the vet. When I got up that morning she only had a few minutes left. I knew that, too. But I held her. She knew she was loved. It wasn't a good death but it wasn't a bad one.
It doesn't help, the knowing. If anything it's worse, the guilt especially. I think I did everything I could, but was there somthing else? Could I have stopped it? Stopped that dream of wrapping her in my comforter and carrying her slack, heavy remains to the car to be cremated?
I don't know. I don't think anyone can. But I know I spoiled her rotten while I had the chance. I held her all the time, kissed her fluffy cheeks, gave her extra treats, insisted she sleep in my arms all night. And she didn't hide from me. There's that, too. When she was hurting she came right to me and meowed at me to be held. I didn't let her go until she was gone.
Still, the way she felt in my arms when she was gone won't leave me. I miss her. It's been three weeks now and the scratches are fading. I'd give anything to keep that last little mishap on my body forever.
Hey, bartender? A double please?
I'm sorry for your loss.
I'm not as lucky as you have been, I never had the opportunity to have a pet, but I know that animals tend to hide themselves when they feel it coming.
I know of only another cat that did the same act of searching for his dear friend when near his end. He and my friend were inseparable, as in they had such a bond they gravitated towards the other. You could truly tell by sight.
Judging by what she did, I think you may have had the same kind of love for her, as she felt so comfortable around you.
Even as the playful scratches heal, do not forget her, cry, then go forward in your life, head up, straight back.
I bet she wouldn't want to see you in this state.