RIP [If I had my way I'd never get over you]
R.I.P.
Tommy.
The friendliest, most badass cat ever.
199* - 2012
Nearly twenty years together is a good run. At least that's what my dad keeps saying to me. And it is, it just really doesn't work towards making me feel better, like he's trying to do.
I have it under control for a while and then I start tearing up again. And to think, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to cry. I honestly wanna just scream and in a way I don't want to feel better about things. And I really wish I didn't have to go to class later but I can't afford to miss any. This was a shit day, plain and simple.
Funnily enough, Tommy was one of my first, if not my first memory. He was also my first pet. Tommy was a birthday present. I remember wanting to name him after one of the rugrats and finally settling on the ringleader. For a while after my birthday, for some reason that remains unfathomable to my present self, I kept putting him back in the box he came in and he kept jumping out. A while after we got him, someone accidentally left the front door open and he got back. He was gone for a week or so and then came back, to the surprise of my parents. From then on he was an outdoor and indoor cat, going in and out as he pleased. Despite him seeming to prefer the outside world he always came home and was plenty affectionate with us. One night dad found him in the hallway, just lying there. My parents took him to the vet and once he was okay again they said it was a miracle he made it through. I'm not entirely sure what it was, but I think it was a blockage. He was fine afterwards and continued on like nothing had happened.
I honestly can't imagine not having him around, but I guess I'm gonna find out anyway. It kinda feels like a part of me is missing. And when I think about it too much, it's hard to breathe. I just want him back. I keep think maybe it was too soon, that maybe we should have spent a little more time figuring out exactly what was wrong. That maybe today was a mistake. I just want him back.