I didn’t know if I’d be up for writing much today…but surprisingly, I find myself wanting to sit down and say a little something. I think it’s a sort of therapy for me to express myself in this way…so here goes.
Today has been a very rough day…one of the roughest I think I’ve ever known. I’m sure to some people it seems very irrational to be so emotional about a cat…but then again, you’d just have to know how truly special Steve was. He was our first baby…and for a couple who may never know what it is like to be parents, that really means something. We rescued Steve from the humane society right after we bought our first house…he actually lived in it before we did! We knew he was special because he came right to me…he picked me. And of course, he was super smart. They had to stick a piece of cardboard in the lock of his cage, because he had figured out how to stick his little paw out and open it up himself. We knew right away he was different from most cats. He came when you called him, he always loved to curl up on your lap, he accepted and played hours on end with Penny when we brought her home, and he hardly even noticed when Buddy showed up. He was exceptionally laid back and easy going. He was 100% pure lovable cat…everyone says so. People who never liked cats, grew to love him…everyone did. He was truly, truly a great cat.
He was with us through a lot…three houses, two dogs, many, many life changes. He was there to snuggle with (and often drive me nuts) when Matt was gone all those many nights. He was there to cuddle on the couch on a cold, snowy afternoon. He was just…there. And it will be very, very strange not to have him around anymore.
Matt and I were able to be there for his last breaths…and they were quiet and peaceful. The doctor and her helper were very kind and understanding. They reassured us that we were making a good decision given his recent bowl problems, which were going to be a recurring thing. Their words comforted us, and Steve didn’t make a fuss, as she leaned down and whispered in his ear…’you are a good cat’. I softly touched the back of his head as he lay there, and then…in just a few moments…he was gone. They left us alone with him for a few minutes, as we held hands and shed our tears. I walked around and pat him once more, kissed his little head, and we said our silent goodbyes. I’ve pretty much been a blubbering mess every since…except now, as I write this post. I came home and immediately removed the litter boxes and food, opening the laundry room up to the dogs for the first time. I cried as I remembered how happy I had been setting up Steve’s little room in there…and how tickled I was the first time he ran through the cat door. I cried as I picked up the tiny cat ball he had played around with this morning. I cried and cried. I will miss him…we both will. Matt is doing his best to be strong and stoic for me…trying not to be too upset. I know we’ll both grieve in our own ways…and I think writing this might be mine. I know in the coming days the depth of my grief will slowly subside and we will go on…but our little family will be different, and that’s a tough pill to swallow. I’m grateful for all the good memories, and I’m glad I have Penny and Buddy to look after and care for…and of course, I’m so lucky to have Matt beside me to lean on.