August Thoughts
Nearly August, so time for some august impressions. Wait, I don't do impressions.
I keep thinking about Mikey. Wondering if he ever thinks of me or remembers me. He called and called so many times with the same stories. I knew something was wrong, but not what. He is safe, in a place where they watch him and care for him. I just wonder if he ever has moments of clarity.
That wasn't the point of this post, though. New commitments. Thoughts of death. Always thoughts of death because so many are leaving. Since '18 it's been Jaxie, my sisiter-in-law, Deanna, and now Oreo the Swimmer Kitty, my buddy. He was very sick very quickly. Fast growing tumors that took away his vitality. But he purred. Oh, he purred every moment. I choose to believe it wasn't pain or fear, maybe he was asking for help; but I rather like to think that it was him telling me it was okay to let him go. Because I have to, otherwise I feel guilt. He was my buddy, filling that gap from when the cutest kitty in the whole wide world left me. My Dufas. My Stof. The conjugated cat (Doofee, Doofas, Doofatum).
And I had to let him go. We have to eventually let them all go. Better they leave us than we leave them sad, alone, confused. Far better. I thank God for such moments when we can be there for our loved ones, whether they are pets or people. Pets are family. Oreo was. Oreo, Otis, Otis the POTUS (Putty-tat of the United States ;D) and so many other names. Names I will inevitably forget with time. I'm already forgetting.
I guess that's all right. Some forgetting is what helps those waves of pain be less. Or hit us less hard, maybe. I burst into tears at the eye doctor yesterday talking about him.
We buried him in the back yard with the other cats. Right in front of Doofee because Otis always took his spot on the bed and that irritated the hell out of him. So I figured it was fitting. We buried him with his bowl, because I couldn't bear to give it to any of the others. We buried him with a little, red chicken, not because he played with it, but because he LOVED chicken and the chicken was Megan's for holding chopsticks (for beginners). It came with her ramen bowl. She didn't need it and had let her kitten Leeloo play with it. But it was the best representation of a chicken that I had. I also gave him a catnip mouse. His forever.
I took pictures because I always take pictures of our pets and death needs to be remembered sometimes. For me, it does. Certainty that they are really gone. I don't know. Some would find it weird. I just want to remember. Not that I will ever forget him. He was such a tiny, crazy, adorable kitten. Given birth to by our shed. One tiny white splat on his chest, black everywhere else but for one whisker. He was so small but he caught a vole in the yard and hissed--the tiniest, most adorable hiss--at me when I tried to get close. Then he darted under the shed and took it with him. We made friends eventually. I sat out there every day. Gave him food. Waited, talked to him. He hid a lot under the shed. We played with long strands of grass. Then one day *he* touched me, rubbed up against my leg. I was so happy that he trusted me. And then, finally, he let me touch him. I remember Christen almost ruined it by grabbing him up off the ground. But he regained his trust of me after that and we were able to take him to the vet. Then we brought him in and he became ours. About the same time, we got Cynder, our beloved doggo. They became best buds.
Now, they are together again, running in green fields beyond a white shore.
We'll see you again soon, guys. But not yet. Hang with Jax and Dee, they'll play with you. I miss you all.