Small goodbyes
oc I know it seems stupid to do this icly but he was an epic cat, so it seemed sort of fitting to give him an "epic" goodbye in some manner that's more than just me curled at my keyboard wishing I had real life words to say how much I'll miss him mrring at the door, which was, without a doubt, always one of the highlights of my day. He didn't need to be pure bred or anything other than a big orange, loving goofball that liked to pee with Haley and had a huge fondness for waking Jake up by walking across his face, and who loved a good cardboard box or his vaulderie cat basket. I can't believe this hurts quite this much but I don't have any real good words to say beyond that that seem fitting. I'll leave it to Gypsy this time, because of all the characters I write, I can't really think of a better hero to say goodbye to the fuzzball that literally pulled me out of one of the deepest depressions of my life.
I guess someone else needed him for now and that we didn't anymore. But that doesn't make it hurt less.
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Gypsy stared at the not-so-tiny ball of orange fur that lay curled by the bed, unmoving and still. She couldn't count the number of times she had cursed the mahrime beast for not leaving and now, when she'd finally gotten used to him, he had. Her fingers traced the darker splotches on his back that were shaped like wings and gathered him gently up. he'd passed sometime in his sleep, one paw thrown over his eyes like he'd always liked to sit. She'd suspected for a few days that he wasn't feeling well, something in the way he looked up at her.
She wouldn't have to pull fur balls out of her computer boards anymore. nor would she have to wonder why he loved to bat her thumb drives beneath the couch, why her water glass was so much better than his bowl, nor would she have to complain that his plaintive meowing at three am was louder than God had any right to give any creature. Cru wouldn't have to worry about the unclean beast around the kidlette.
But she also would miss the way he slept with his paw on her face as if he were comforting her, or the way that when she got Solomon's death flu he had curled up against her side and buried his head under her arm. She missed the way he'd been a softy but a tough little guy, having survived the streets just like her, or how he'd walk around the edge of her bath and bat at the water and then look startled when it was wet. She'd miss the nightly hunts to get him out of the rooms he wasn't supposed to be in, and the way no matter what hour she got home from patrol he would mew at the door until she opened it and picked him up and buried her ear in his fur to hear the loud rumbling purr that could be heard across the room.
"Damn it you little beast," she whispered, picking him up and cradling him gently. "You had to up and go right when I just realized how much I loved you." The golden eyes didn't answer her quiet tears, there was no mrr or sleepy sigh. She smoothed his fur back and went to find a place in the roof garden to bury him.
I guess someone else needed him for now and that we didn't anymore. But that doesn't make it hurt less.
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Gypsy stared at the not-so-tiny ball of orange fur that lay curled by the bed, unmoving and still. She couldn't count the number of times she had cursed the mahrime beast for not leaving and now, when she'd finally gotten used to him, he had. Her fingers traced the darker splotches on his back that were shaped like wings and gathered him gently up. he'd passed sometime in his sleep, one paw thrown over his eyes like he'd always liked to sit. She'd suspected for a few days that he wasn't feeling well, something in the way he looked up at her.
She wouldn't have to pull fur balls out of her computer boards anymore. nor would she have to wonder why he loved to bat her thumb drives beneath the couch, why her water glass was so much better than his bowl, nor would she have to complain that his plaintive meowing at three am was louder than God had any right to give any creature. Cru wouldn't have to worry about the unclean beast around the kidlette.
But she also would miss the way he slept with his paw on her face as if he were comforting her, or the way that when she got Solomon's death flu he had curled up against her side and buried his head under her arm. She missed the way he'd been a softy but a tough little guy, having survived the streets just like her, or how he'd walk around the edge of her bath and bat at the water and then look startled when it was wet. She'd miss the nightly hunts to get him out of the rooms he wasn't supposed to be in, and the way no matter what hour she got home from patrol he would mew at the door until she opened it and picked him up and buried her ear in his fur to hear the loud rumbling purr that could be heard across the room.
"Damn it you little beast," she whispered, picking him up and cradling him gently. "You had to up and go right when I just realized how much I loved you." The golden eyes didn't answer her quiet tears, there was no mrr or sleepy sigh. She smoothed his fur back and went to find a place in the roof garden to bury him.