i have a dead cat on my table.
No this isn't the start of a spooky Halloween tale, it is a eulogy to a very dear friend that passed way too soon.
I first met Patches after work. It was 5am and I was just getting home from the pizza delivery job that kept me fed in college. My dogs were out in their kennel, barking up a storm so I went out to see what they were barking at since I knew that if I didn't the neighbors would have words with me the next day. I got there in time to see a cat run away. I thought I knew what they had been barking at. It wasn't until a set of very tiny, very sharp claws started working their way up my leg that I realized I was only partially right. It was a tiny little white fur ball who, it seems, had just been abandoned by his mother from fear of my dogs.
I grabbed the little guy and brought him in the house. He was so tiny. He fit in the palm of my hand. I showed him to my wife and we decided that there was no way we were going to put him back outside. He'd never make it alone. So we gave him some food, introduced him to the other two cats, and he became our quiet little ghost.
I called him that because though he was always around, it normally wasn't where you could see him. It was under the dresser or under the couch, in a box behind the chair or finally in his Sassy Sofa (TM) under the side table, but above right near the entry way where he could see us come home. His one exception to ghostliness was at bedtime. Then he was always there. He loved to be up in your face, reaching one paw out to pet your cheek, though he was happy enough just keeping your feet warm. Sometimes though he'd crawl up on your pillow and suckle just a bit on your hair. My wife and I thought it a bit gross at the time. I think either of us would be happy to have it again now.
I'm not a cat person. I think that scooping litter is one of the most disgusting things a human can do. I loved that one though. He was the absolute sweetest animal you would ever meet. In my experience, most cats seem to want you for the food you provide. Not Patches, he genuinely seemed to love you. He'd do anything just to be near or touching you. He even learned to open the bathroom door so he could sit in the same room as you while you showered.
Saturday morning, my wife found him, dead, on the kitchen floor. He was lying in a puddle of bile and was stiff. I've been prepared for my oldest dog to go for a while now. He's old and having a hard time of things. But I wasn't prepared for this. Patches was twelve and a half years old and now he's gone.
Today I picked up his cremated remains. I don't know where we'll put them, so for right now, they sit on the table. For once, I'm not afraid of him hurting the finish. Last night my wife dreamed that Patches put his paw on her face in her sleep like he did so many times when he was alive. It seems oddly appropriate that my ghost cat would turn into one just in time for Halloween.
No this isn't the start of a spooky Halloween tale, it is a eulogy to a very dear friend that passed way too soon.
I first met Patches after work. It was 5am and I was just getting home from the pizza delivery job that kept me fed in college. My dogs were out in their kennel, barking up a storm so I went out to see what they were barking at since I knew that if I didn't the neighbors would have words with me the next day. I got there in time to see a cat run away. I thought I knew what they had been barking at. It wasn't until a set of very tiny, very sharp claws started working their way up my leg that I realized I was only partially right. It was a tiny little white fur ball who, it seems, had just been abandoned by his mother from fear of my dogs.
I grabbed the little guy and brought him in the house. He was so tiny. He fit in the palm of my hand. I showed him to my wife and we decided that there was no way we were going to put him back outside. He'd never make it alone. So we gave him some food, introduced him to the other two cats, and he became our quiet little ghost.
I called him that because though he was always around, it normally wasn't where you could see him. It was under the dresser or under the couch, in a box behind the chair or finally in his Sassy Sofa (TM) under the side table, but above right near the entry way where he could see us come home. His one exception to ghostliness was at bedtime. Then he was always there. He loved to be up in your face, reaching one paw out to pet your cheek, though he was happy enough just keeping your feet warm. Sometimes though he'd crawl up on your pillow and suckle just a bit on your hair. My wife and I thought it a bit gross at the time. I think either of us would be happy to have it again now.
I'm not a cat person. I think that scooping litter is one of the most disgusting things a human can do. I loved that one though. He was the absolute sweetest animal you would ever meet. In my experience, most cats seem to want you for the food you provide. Not Patches, he genuinely seemed to love you. He'd do anything just to be near or touching you. He even learned to open the bathroom door so he could sit in the same room as you while you showered.
Saturday morning, my wife found him, dead, on the kitchen floor. He was lying in a puddle of bile and was stiff. I've been prepared for my oldest dog to go for a while now. He's old and having a hard time of things. But I wasn't prepared for this. Patches was twelve and a half years old and now he's gone.
Today I picked up his cremated remains. I don't know where we'll put them, so for right now, they sit on the table. For once, I'm not afraid of him hurting the finish. Last night my wife dreamed that Patches put his paw on her face in her sleep like he did so many times when he was alive. It seems oddly appropriate that my ghost cat would turn into one just in time for Halloween.