It has been two days now, and I still just feel sad. I know he was "just a cat" but he was MY cat, and I loved that little furball. However he was the most charismatic cat we had ever met. People came to our house, and he would meet and greet them. He entertained us, and played with our dog. I just can not imagine how our life will be without him .
I am at my parents house, it usually cheers me up. It just doesn't seem to be working at all. I look at myself in the mirror and I can SEE the sadness in my eyes. I am glad not to be home, not seeing all of the spots that used to hold my sweet black and white kitty.
There are places, like the pillow above my head that he used to always sleep, that will always remind me of him. He had been so sick that for weeks that he hadn't been sleeping there. But that night, Thursday night, he was there, curled in a ball, on my pillow, not purring like he used to, but he was there. And for the last night I fell asleep stroking his fur. In the morning I woke to touch his cold foot. For a moment I thought maybe he had passed in the night, but his head popped up and a feeble mew escaped his mouth.
Would it have been easier if he had died in the night? I think so, because it would not have been our decision to end his life. Not that choosing to put him down was easy, but it wasn't the hardest choice to make. I saw the x-ray. I saw how much foreign stuff was in him, and how his trachea was pushed up to his spine and crowded by the fluid and growths that filled his chest. I knew the second the vet brought the first x-ray out, the "normal pet" x-ray to show me what it SHOULD look like, that I would hear nothing good at that time.
This death made me think of my Grandma, and how someday, she will cease to be there. Someday she will not be a phone call or car ride away. It made me wonder if I am using my time with her as wisely as I should. Did I appreciate my cat as much as I could. I think so. We called him "the best kitty ever" and told everyone how great he was, until I am sure that they were sick to death of hearing about him. Yet, do I appreciate my Grandma as much as I did Beckham? I don't think I really do.