The past two nights, for reasons I don't fully understand, I have been re-grieving an old friend.
The first night, I thought it was just caffeine. I have been through too much hurt and loss to be allowed to stare at the ceiling late at night with my mind wandering. And of course my thoughts would wander to him, lying as I was under the blanket I made while he was still alive. That's never been washed since he last slept on it - so, to my mind, still has a part of him in it.
But last night, it happened again and I could not hold back my tears. I slipped out of the bedroom so as not to wake my husband, and cried and cried. I turned to my computer to distract myself from this strangely fresh sorrow, and still I cried. I wondered why this was happening to me, here and now. I'd fully mourned him when it happened. But inside of me, I knew, I had carried the pain like a weight, and I was only okay because I didn't let it cross my mind too often. I wondered if it was weight loss or something else in my general return to health that was bringing it back to the surface - they say the body holds onto memories that the mind has already faced, and that cleansing the body often leads to cleansing the soul. I wondered if it was stress. With my first-ever job hunt on the horizon, I'm facing my future in the adult world and perhaps that is bringing me to grieve for my past again as I prepare to put it behind me more fully. Maybe...it was something else entirely. Something more purposeful. I still don't know the answer to that.
Now here's the part where you might, if you're so inclined, start thinking that I'm silly, and/or nuts. It's okay with me if you do; I already know that I am!
My friend is/was a cat.
His name was Chunky (his sister's name was Smooth.) He had a fair amount of British Shorthair (British Blue) in his ancestry but he was so much handsomer than the purebreds are. He was gunmetal grey, with lots of lanolin in his coat. He had one single white spot on his chest that we called his bow tie. He had the sweetest rounded nose and face and gorgeous green eyes. He was barrel-chested, for a cat, muscular and heavy for his size. He had no voice; when he meowed he squeaked like a person with laryngitis trying to speak. He purred like a Harley. He was, with apologies to my current babies, the most wonderful pet I have ever had.
He was very sociable. Oh, he loved to go off and hunt gophers and be all macho, but he loved his people too. He was all too happy to let us hold him up and "make" him dance ("I'm Chunky T, an' I'm here ta be / a memba of your family!") He loved to be cradled in your arms like a baby. He would follow you around the house. When he wanted to play outside, he would try to entice you to go out with him so he would have company. He would start up purring just because you entered the same room as him - you didn't even have to get near him or touch him; he was just that happy you were there. And he knew things. He knew when you were sad, or when you just wanted a little companionship. He knew when you needed cheering up despite yourself. He knew when you had room in your lap for him, when you didn't, and when you should anyway.
He loved everybody, of course (though he wasn't indiscriminate; he was a good judge of character). He even thanked the vet with purrs and head bumps after an emergency surgery for a blocked urinary tract that almost killed him - and the vet, without dropping a beat in his report to us humans, glanced down and said, "Oh, you're welcome." And we all loved him, tremendously. But he was my cat.
When he was a kitten, and he would fuss and get upset, I would pick him up, put him over my shoulder like a baby, and walk the floor with him. And he would settle. Later on in life, he would spend many nights - not all, but many - in my room. When he saw me getting ready for bed, he would run eagerly into my room and wait for me. When he thought it was getting late and I ought to be in bed, he would pace in front of me or knead my legs, or get my attention and then run into my bedroom ("Are you looking? Watch! See? In here!") until I went. Some nights he stayed all the way through, and some he stayed just long enough to make sure that I would get to sleep okay.
He was 8 years old when he died. After the night I've had, I don't feel like recounting the whole story end-to-end, though perhaps I should one day. So I'll stick to the basics for now. He was attacked by a dog, at night, in our front yard. We heard the dog bark aggressively, and thought it was kind of close to the house, but we didn't hear anything else after that, and it was late, after midnight, so we went on to bed. The next morning our neighbor called to say, "I think that's your cat at the end of my driveway; maybe you should check on him." He looked very peacful, like he had laid down to sleep. He didn't even have any visible injuries.
We held the body for a while, saying goodbye. I know that for some people, being with a dead body for very long is kind of weird and creepy. But for myself, I am so grateful for that extra time to take it all in, and to let him know how much I loved him. I'm grateful, too, that we could show the body to his sister so she could understand what happened. It wouldn't have been fair to her if he had just disappeared. I'm still wracked with guilt. Probably by the time we heard the dog and knew that anything was going on, we couldn't have saved him. But maybe we could have. Or at least we could have brought him inside to be warm and comfortable and surrounded by his family at the end. But the way he looked when we found him...I don't think he was in pain, and I think he knew we loved him.
We buried him in our yard, in the middle of a little flower garden at the base of some trees, and marked it with a flat rock the same color as he was. I went to visit him every day until I had to go back to college, and even then I made sure to stop by to say hello every time I was home on vacation. I even went to see his rock (though we had moved it by then; storms had uprooted the trees and everything around them) the day I secretly left home for good. And I cried until I was tired of crying; I hurt until I was tired of hurting. I thought I had dealt with it, but when I was honest with myself, I knew better. I burst into tears whenever I read about people losing animals or saw it on TV. So this is what grief is, I thought. This is what it means to lose somebody, this is what they mean when they say it never really goes away. This is the kind of thing I'm in for when I finally start to lose people from my life.
And last night, I looked at the quilt I made, my first-ever quilt that he lost no time in christening with his fur the moment I put it on my bed, and I cried, and I couldn't stop crying. Not for more than an hour. I bit down on my fingers, not sure if I was trying to control the pain or express it. I cried out, "I miss you," and "I'm sorry," and "I don't know how to lose you!" I started looking at cat websites online. I saw this picture of a mother cat, gray like he was, with her kittens, and the mother was looking straight into the camera, and something in her expression sent a feeling of peace and understanding through me. "Okay," I said. "Okay." I'm not sure what I was understanding, what was okay, but it was. Something about love, I think. And about creation, starting new.
I've written about this before, a long time ago, but I believe in animal communication. Of course some "pet psychics" are quacks, maybe even most of them. But I believe in the phenomenon. It's happened to me, spontaneously, seeing pictures in my mind and having feelings that weren't mine, while holding a frightened animal in my arms and asking her what was wrong and how I could help. And I believe in the Rainbow Bridge, or kitty heaven, or whatever you want to call it - that animals have souls and spirits and that they wait for us or even follow us around. If you catch me when I'm feeling particularly honest, I'll tell you that I believe I have a couple of feline guardians waiting for me, who, while perhaps not arranging the world in my favor or mysteriously keeping me from harm, are here with me to watch me and keep me company and will be only too happy to see me when it's my time.
Anyway, I think Chunky talked to me last night. When I finally went back to bed, I decided to clear my mind and see if just maybe something would happen. If maybe all of this had a reason that I could find. And I think it did. See, I couldn't see him anymore. I couldn't remember him in my mind's eye. And when I thought of him, I could only think of the night that he died, and the day that we found him. And suddenly, last night, as I was falling asleep, I saw him. I could remember what he sounded like, what he looked like, the way he moved. Like some kind of mental block had been lifted. And I didn't see that cold, misty morning anymore. I saw him in the green grass in our old yard, among the trees and flowers, in the warm yellow sun. Trotting up to greet me on the porch, leading me on a little walk through the yard, sitting on my lap in the grass. And I think he talked to me.
Maybe it was me talking to myself. It didn't feel like it was. But I've already admitted that I'm okay with knowing that sometimes I believe what I want to believe - after all, isn't that sort of what belief is for? To make this life a little easier to understand, a little easier to take. But even if it was just me holding a conversation in my head, I was saying things I needed to hear, so the good it did is the same.
"Why are we here, at this house?"
"Because this is the house where I lived."
"I hated living here!"
"You hated the house. You loved the yard. I did too. That's why we're outside."
"Before the trees got cut down, I see."
"We both liked the trees. I brought us to when there were trees."
He leads me to the little flower garden, turns and looks at me.
"Here. You brought me here. I saw you visiting. Thanks for remembering me. And thanks for helping my sister to understand."
In my mind's eye, I start to see that terrible morning again, remembering looking down at his face as I held him in the towel...
"Stop that! Look at me here. Remember me here."
The cold image fades and I see the two of us again in the warm sun and the green grass, walking along the side of the house, him trotting along happily at my side, diving off into the bushes to chase down a little bird or a grasshopper or something. And I realize that all this time, all these years, I've only been remembering how he died.
Suddenly I see myself sitting in the grass at the side of the house, and he's bounding into my lap, nearly bowling me over. I can feel his sun-warmed fur and smell the way he smelled when he'd been outside in the green air.
"Why are you sad?"
"Because...because I miss you. Because you're not here with me and I wish you were, because I loved having you with me."
He bumps his head against my chin, purring loudly.
"I am with you. I'm here, aren't I? And now you're here. Now you can find me."
"You helped me get here, didn't you? You made me cry like this? I had to let go of...of that other thing, didn't I?"
Bump. Purrrrrr. There's a song playing in my mind now: Remember me this way (by Jordan Hill...yes, from Casper, but the song is beautiful).
"I think I'm getting sleepy, I can't focus as well."
"I know. I think you'll be okay now."
"Hey...tell the others...Hobie, and the kittens, and I guess Felicity's here by now...give them my love if you see them."
"I will!"
"Go play, you little rascal. My sweet boy. And thank you for this."
One more bump, one more purr, and then I see his tail with the barely-there rings, the little kink at the end where it was broken, pointing straight up and trotting happily away from me.
I'm not saying that somehow, magically, I'm all okay now. It still hurts. I still miss him. Maybe I'm nuts for thinking that he talked to me. But I know I could see him last night, vividly, in a way that I've never been able to before. I saw things I didn't even remember remembering about him. And last night I fell asleep under the blanket without feeling guilty. And today, I feel better. I feel at peace. I feel like something in me has been resolved, put to rest. I still miss him, but I think it's going to be easier to carry now. And I think I'm going to find him again, from time to time. I have more of a sense of his presence than of his absence.
Believe what you want. I certainly will!
nytquill17 posted on Oct 04, 2007
| views: 439
Comments
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evil_twin said on Oct 04, 2007....
You are truly a very kind and loving soul. Just reading about your intense love for your cat proves that. I think it's normal to miss a pet, even after it's been years. I still miss the cat I had when I was a kid. We got her when I was about 4 years old and she lived for 17 years. That cat was a part of my life. I still think about her. And I do believe that pets have spirits and do stay with us too. So you're not alone with that belief.
There have been many times (before I got new cats) that I would feel a cat jump on my bed while I was trying to sleep. Or I'd see a flash of a cat walking around the corner of my hallway. Only I had no pets! So like you, I chose to believe it my cat coming for a visit. Who cares if we're right or wrong? It made me happier to believe that, and that's what I'm gonna believe!
This was a really nice post to read. It was sad, but also not sad at the same time. You finally got a little comfort and peace and that's a good thing.
-evil_twin LA
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silverwhisper said on Oct 04, 2007....
i'm sorry about chunky, nyt. i see you're not real clear on why you're thinking about him again now, but i've certainly found myself remembering missing friends completely devoid of any seeming connection to what's going on and where i am, emotionally.
ed -
kruuyai said on Oct 04, 2007....
Nytquill, I was really moved by this post. I have also lived through the loss of my cats. All three of them died within a two year period, and they were what I considered to be my entire family. They lived with me for between 15 and 17 years. The shock of the first death was something I didn't think I could ever recover from. I'd never lost anyone that I'd actually been close to before... someone who was a part of my daily life. That was almost 5 years ago, and I still cry about her loss sometimes, and that of my other two cats. I've blogged about this some, and will do more, but some of it is still too painful for me to write about. The worst thing is that we feel so responsible for our pets, and when they die, it's like losing a child, and I guess it's natural to feel guilty, and believe that we could have done something to prevent it. But that kind of thinking doesn't get us anywhere. The best way to feel the love that they still have to offer us is to accept that they're gone, and know that they still love us, and just be open to it. I think they know we did the best we could have done under the circumstances. But we're not god, and we can't make them live forever. If it were up to us, we would. My cats also pay me visits. Mostly in my dreams. You know, sometimes, I dream about them, and they're just dreams, and other times, I know I've had a visit. Trout was the only one who visited me when I was awake. I'd see her shadow walking around the apartment out of the corner of my eye. Her sister was still alive at the time, but she'd be off in the corner or in the other room. There was so much I could relate to in this post. Even the part about only being able to remember the corpse. That happened to me for quite a while, but now I mostly remember them in life, and I'm glad for the few pictures I have. I took some videos of the last one, and I wish I would have done that for the others. I have only two, faraway photos of Bok Choi, the first one to go. There are a lot of other photos of her in a box in my sister's attic, and a feud with my father prevents me from going and getting them, but I really wish I had them. Anyway, I know I'm not offering much support here. I just wanted to say that you're not alone in your love for cats, and your beliefs about them. As I've said before, my relationships with my cats were the strongest and most meaningful relationships I've ever had in my life, and I don't care what anyone says about that. -
the_infernal_optimist said on Oct 04, 2007....
I'm not good with words today, but I'll PM you anyway here in a bit.
I still carry the first cat we ever had and the first two cats who were really mine, such that anyone ever is, in my heart on a level many people never even touch. (Mama Cat, Gray Cat, and Smokey - how original I was with their names! :-p)
~Infernal
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nytquill17 said on Oct 04, 2007....
Thank you all for your replies. I'm feeling a bit talked out so I don't know if I'll say everything the way I mean to, but I appreciate you all taking the time to share your thoughts with me.
E_T: *blush* Thank you for the compliment, and also for your understanding. I know that you believe in ghosts (as do I) and it's not much of a stretch from their to pets' spirits. It's good to know I'm not the only one who thinks the way I do!
Ed: Thanks for your condolences. And you're right, there doesn't really have to be a connection or a reason. The truth is, whenever I think back over my life while I am feeling down, I always think of two souls that I miss from my life - this cat, and one particular ex-boyfriend (he's not dead, but we didn't part well, and he was a good guy and deserved better from me). So I guess it was bound to come up sometime, being in the top two like that.
Kruu: thank you for sharing your thoughts with me. I am so sorry for what you have gone through. I can't imagine what it must feel like to you. You had some very wise things to say (as you always do!) I'm glad to see that you also have had visits from your beloved cats. I agree with you - I think animals know the people who love them (and the people who don't) and they know that we did our best for them.
I don't have any pictures of Chunky here with me. I really wish I did; it would be nice to have something to look at. There are some floating around at my parents' house, but, although I'm not as bitter towards them as I was a year ago, things are still a bit awkward and I don't feel right cajoling them for those pictures (anyway I've already asked once and she sort of 'forgot'). But at least there are pictures of him, and one day I'll get my hands on them!
But for reference, and because it makes me happy to look at, he looked a little like this (except with a white spot in the middle of the chest and slightly greener eyes). Click "continue" when the page loads to see the picture.
Infernal: I'll reply to your PM in a bit. I just want to go ahead and thank you for it :)
My dad was an ace with cat names. Smooth and Chunky were originally named Altair and Andromeda (by me) and then Johnson and Evinrude by my dad, and then he revised it to the ones that stuck. My dad has a thing for boats and he used to always joke that he could've had a boat except he spent so much money on my mom's and my "cat habit." For example, one of my first two cats he named Hobie (a "hobie cat" is a kind of catamaran). We also had a pair named Trouble and Tribble, and another kitten we called Fragment because he looked exactly like his mother only about 1/2 the size (even fully grown he was small - and he had the short-guy syndrome to go with it!)
I knew that you of all people would understand, in that marvelous way that you truly and completely and always understand, and had probably been through something similar.
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kruuyai said on Oct 05, 2007....
Oh, I really like that color. You must miss him a lot. Do you have another cat now? -
silverwhisper said on Oct 05, 2007....
yes, i can defnitely see the truth in that, nyt. :>
ed -
nytquill17 said on Oct 05, 2007....
Kruu: yes, I do! I've only been without a cat for a total of...just a few months I believe, since I was three :D
They're inherited cats though...my husband and his first wife got them together, and then she couldn't take them with her after the divorce so he got them, and then I got them when I married him. They are a little weird, even for cats, and it's trickier to get close to a cat that's already grown when you come into its life, but I love them anyway. And his first wife, who is still a good friend of ours, always remarks when she sees them at how calm and relaxed they are, so I guess I'm having a good effect on them too :)
Pictures: Here, here, and here. Oh, and this guy (I couldn't resist! He's my baby! and I guess the cats are the stepkids lol)
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kruuyai said on Oct 05, 2007....
So cute! The dark one looks a bit like my Bok Choi, but Bok had more yellow patches, including a triangle right over one eye. And you have a bunny! What's that like to have a bunny as a pet? -
nytquill17 said on Oct 05, 2007....
The dark one (her name is Celes) is a real basket case :p She's better since I moved in - I guess she finds me reassuring - but she's nothing but a big bundle of nerves and contradictions. Hard not to love her, though!
I have a blast having Sniff (the bunny) as a pet! Rabbits can have all kinds of different personalities like any kind of animal, but he is sooo affectionate. He loves to lick my fingers and my face and would do it for hours if I let him. He always gets excited when he sees me. He likes to sit on my lap, put his front paws on my chest and look straight into my...um...nose. He's too small to look in my eyes! But he likes to get up close to my face like that.
He loves everybody and wants to make friends with anyone he meets (the cats included, but they're terrified of him and run away!) He likes to play a lot - mostly running and jumping or chewing on chew toys. He loves to hide in a box or a bag and then shoot out really fast! It's rabbit hide-and-seek I think. He doesn't get into a lot of trouble but I have to keep him away from wires and stuff because he'll try to chew through them (it's an instinct, to clean roots out of their burrow). But then he's happy to sit in his cage and contemplate the mysteries of life - and he is so CUTE when he sleeps! - as long as I make sure to give him plenty of attention while he's in there.
Rabbits are quite intelligent and clever, and very curious. Developmentally they're a lot like a 2- or 3-year-old child. Love to get into stuff, test boundaries, lots of "me do!" and "lookit Mommy!" I love watching him figure stuff out.
Oh, and he loves his food!! Lettuce is his favorite. Not that big on carrots, actually (but most are. He's a bit of a weirdo!). Dried banana chips, store-bought bunny treats, yogurt-covered anything. Oranges scare him though; they smell too strong I guess. Anyway, he's just a little treasure, and there is never a dull moment or a bad day that a bunny can't help you with!
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kruuyai said on Oct 05, 2007....
Wow! I never knew bunnies were so sociable. Any of the ones I've seen have seemed content to be safe in their cages. And the cats are scared of him! That really surprises me. Well, better than the other way around, I guess. I just can't even imagine a bunny licking you. What a hoot! -
Trinov said on Oct 09, 2007....
Hi, we're a childless couple who has always had cats, and they have always been close to us. We know that they have souls, and that they re-incarnate --like we do. Our current cat is a cat we have had before, she is a very talkitive cat -we call her Complainicat sometimes and she looks quite a bit like her former self and has the same traits......We've seen cat visions, some very three di. Once a cat of ours appeared when my mother was visiting and he ran between her legs in a very solid form before just disappearing and she freaked out a bit. We just said, 'told you this happens'. ...We lost a cat from some disease that we did not notice until it was too late, this was a cat very close to my husband and we were very very upset and sad. And when I prayed that day, I saw in my mind's eye a picture of this cat, somehow now white, in a basket going up and up and she was looking around confused. Each time I opened my eyes I wondered about it, for each time I closed my eyes I saw a different view of that same cat looking around, down etc and I knew that this was a vision of her experiencing a transition. So I was not as upset as before. And the younger cat that we had did not touch her things (most of the things we actually buried with the cat!) for the full seven days we Jews keep as deep mourning for a person, and then she 'ritually' went to each of the toys and played with them for a few minutes, it was fascinating to watch this 'inheritance'. ............................................So it you are certainly not alone in feeling and seeing these things.
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