Thirty-three and counting.
If there is one cat who I have rarely worried about, it is Phuchku. She came to our house as a 2 month old kitten, screaming along with another sibling from underneath a rarely-moving car that used to be parked in front of my house. I remember us trying desperately to get Panda to eat, as he was in his last days and we lacked a proper vet. My dad still went out and gave them food.
Panda passed away on Sept. 9th, 2019 and Phuchku started residing in our house around that time. She was a scrawny cat. Small and dirty. We cleaned her up as best as could and gave her food. She had a lot of litters after that - around 5 pregnancies, if I remember right. The kittens from the first couple of pregnancies did not survive beyond the first few months. Her girl child, Phuchka, did. She is neutered and vaccinated and roams about, and her fourth litter kids, Laddoo, Halu and Announcer did. Laddoo's other brother from the same litter did not survive.
I was sick the entire week of 20th February. Possibly from overindulgence of what was rich homecooked food and me having eyes too big for my stomach and not refusing like I should have. I did not keep an eye on Phuchku, who would come and sleep on my quilt near my feet like she usually did. Did not really observe what she was up to.
She disappeared on the night of the 23rd February and hasn't returned since. Not at the time of writing this, which marks 22 days since her disappearance.
I don't understand what has happened. I have explored all surrounding areas around my house, checked out as much of the nooks and crannies of my house as possible, should she have passed away. But truth be told, a deceased cat is not difficult to spot at all. We have unfortunate experience on that regard as well.
I have not spotted any deceased cats that resemble her, nor can I spot her anywhere. Where has she gone? Does she have someplace else where people are taking care of her? Where she is not fed meds? Maybe. For her sake, I hope that is the truth. But the longer that time passes and she doesn't return, where I don't hear the telltale scratch of her nails to climb up through our windows, I feel like she is not on this Earth anymore. And it makes me so incredibly heartbroken and sad.
I am pushing to do more things even if I am very sad overall. But at the back of my mind, she is always there. I dreaded her dying one day but I also expected her to live a very long life. She would have been five years old in July this year. How does a cat, who has lived her whole life here, albeit loved going outside and exploring places, simply disappear without a trace?
Has she passed away somewhere in my house, whilst I still cannot see her? I don't know. The idea makes me want to throw up and yet I simply want this sensation to end. This endless stress, not being able to sleep properly at night, entertaining the thought of a nightcap before I sleep at night, everything feels like a nightmare I want to wake up from.
I turned thirty-three on Wednesday. All the friends and family who I speak to on a regular basis wished me and while I don't mind people forgetting my birthday, it definitely felt nice. We didn't go anywhere. I had planned to cook, but we discovered one of our pregnant stray cats who was suffering from an upper respiratory infection had died and her kittens were beside her, nursing from her deceased form. Certainly a way life goes. One ends, one begins, someone turns a year older.
We are now trying to bottle feed the kittens every 3 hours and keeping them warm with hot water bottles. It is working so far.
My mental state is more like limping from crisis to crisis and is really hard to explain to an outsider because no matter how much I want to be honest and open with the selective friends of my life, I am afraid of being judged and losing their friendship. It sounds so odd, but I also filter what I share with what people. Not everyone can handle the unfiltered version and not everyone deserves to share in it.
I used to call Phuchku my big baby, my sweetheart calico child. She has the softest meows and the most wonderful temperament, even if she was more flighty than any other cat I know (notable exception is her daughter Phuchka). I wish she'd come home or atleast let me discover her.
Some days I feel very weird and feel like I cannot sense her anymore, and some days I feel like she is somewhere, pissed off about being fed meds because she'd been down a bit and didn't eat the day she left the house, and is somewhere where she can eat without being bugged about meds. She was recently dewormed, and up-t0-date with her booster shots. There's no real reason she should die. She objected to the pancreatitis meds, and I have promised myself that when (leaving it at 'when') she comes back, I will get Lypex because they're far easier to eat and have no smell unlike Pancreasolve. It also costs about 9 times more, but I don't care. I will get it for her. I just want her to come home.
I am going to go have lunch, wash the bunch of clothes I have sunken into for a wash, and then feed the kitties.
I plan to go out for a walk today and see if I can spot her because that is important to me. I need to be able to see her.
It is hot again. What is she doing out in the heat? Please come home.
I have prayed to every God out there. I often believe that God is not only a human-made construct but truly, he doesn't exist. If he did, so much injustice in this world (genocides in Congo, Gaza and West Bank, ongoing brutalization of the Kashmiris) wouldn't happen. The world may tilt towards justice as the end result, like I read the other day, but it will not happen soon enough to bring closure to anyone.
I am out of words. My depression has no end. I still keep going, and I hope my child will find her way back to me.