Pollywogs!

I don’t think it would have hurt me so bad if I’d seen it coming. Morning was normal, we all had breakfast as usual. So sudden, with no warning, while she was laying on her couch in front of the window and Kelley was spending some time with her, she was screaming in fear. She screamed in a very particular way if she saw a cat through the window and was fighting with it, ultra-loud and very dramatic. She screamed like that this morning and I thought she was just yelling at our outside cat, so I sorta mocked her, yelling along with her. I hear Kelley say my name after she stops yelling, and I come into the living room.

She had stopped making much noise at all by this point, just sorta looking very strange. Kelley thought maybe she had caught her leg odd, as she seemed to be in pain and was moving oddly while she was screaming. I went to look to see what you could do for a cat who dislocated a joint through google, and Kelley says “she’s dead”. I…I didn’t know what to think. Her eyes were still open, but she had gone limp and her chest was barely or not moving at all. We sat petting her and after a bit her eyes dilated. I felt so bad for her, that I didn’t realize what was going on sooner and tried to comfort her. Terribly guilty in fact. Kelley was with her the whole time, and I am very grateful for that. I say these things in a specific way because this cat was very close to me. Very.

She was the first cat that I had as an adult, the first cat that I really took care of and considered mine. My dad found her along Route 44 by herself as a baby, and he had to stop and pick her up. As a kitten she’d lay on my lap while I read. As a young cat, her, Kelley and I went for a walk in the woods. It was the strangest thing, and I sorta realized how special she was. She followed us out into the woods, and she trusted us. We ventured further and further from home and we were amazed she continued to follow. We walked about a mile or two that day, I can still remember we exited a path into an abandoned field (they’ve built a development there since then) and we were all apprehensive about going out in the field. There was a hawk in the sky and poor little Pooh (we’ve called her a dozen different things over the years) looked like a snack. The whole time she just followed us so far from home, trusting we’d keep her safe into the unknown…

When we got a place together, we knew we had to take her with us. I feel like I must have a fucking brain tumor because as I write this I can barely keep from sobbing out loud. We brought her home, and she made our house a home. She was always so happy to see us every day after work. She slept with us, hung out with us, watched TV and movies with us, mooched food off of Kelley every time we ate. Eventually another stray hung around, at first neither Pooh or I were wild about him but Kelley persisted and we brought him inside. He loved Pooh so much, and forced her to love him back. It was amusing to watch him break her down…amusing cause occasionally he’d jump on her back and just dig in with the attack, and Pooh would scream and try to get away, leaving tufts of fur along the way. Funny how Little Guy could be such a puss at one point and a mindless killing machine when the urge struck him. Anyway, we were family. We loved her like you’d love a child. If I scolded her for stealing the food from the other cats dishes, chased her out of the kitchen for being greedy, later in the living room when we’d all be sitting around, she’d just look at me in her chair and look so forlorn. I’d tell her I was sorry and she’d come over and cuddle with me on the couch…

We sat with Pooh for a while. Unsure what to do. Eventually I said we had to do something other than sit and cry. I couldn’t see burying her, although as a kid that is what my folks did with pets. I figure we must have to cremate her. I get a towel, but can’t bring myself to wrap her in it. Kelley wraps her up, she looks like a beautiful little sausage. I get the lower half of a pet carrier as she’s too limp to really hold or move easily. We contact the SPCA and they let us know what to do. We take her down, and the place is crazy busy. Kelley pauses when she gets out of the car, there are kids and stuff and we’re going to a funeral. I tell her “she’s just sleeping” and we can pretend this in order not to cry or feel like fools in front of everyone. We leave her with the SPCA, and drive home. They said it’ll be a while as it’s been a busy spring for this kind of thing. I try to put some music on but nothing feels right.

After work when we got home, walking in the door…everything felt so quiet. Pooh wasn’t there. She was always so happy to see us. The other cats eventually make their way to say hi to us as they usually do. Strange how just one cat can make such a difference. She’d be 11 this summer. If she was an old cat, and we’d seen this coming I could have come to terms with it over time. I’ve lost family, friends, but never lost immediate family before. Never lost them right in front of me. I know this probably sounds absurd, hyperbolic…I apologize, it is simply how I feel. A part of me has been ripped away.