I just have to get this out somehow. Maybe it will help stop my crying and sobbing fits.
A couple of weeks ago Scabs died. He was an old orange tabby that got picked up off the road yrs ago on a cold blizzarding day. His ears had frozen, he was skin and bones. And he had mangey scabs all around his neck and head. I think he was probably around 15-16 yrs old when he passed away. Nobody knows, he was in such bad shape when he was found. It took about a yr I heard before he looked as normal as normal was ever going to be for him. He made life happy for a troubled little boy when he first got here. He put up with everything that was dished out to him, and all he ever did in return was come back for more. He never bit, never scratched, hell I guess he never even hissed out of anger.
The boy is now a young man with a love and empathy for all animals, maybe even most people. I'm sure Scabs had a hand in that somewhere.
I've been here for about a yr and a half, and with the young man off to college, I guess I got somewhat adopted by Scabs. But, he really treats everyone the same. That catness kind of thing they do.
Every morning, while trying to get a cup of coffee first thing, there was Scabs, waiting for me to get him some food, even if he just had his bowl filled by someone else. I'd just pretend I was putting food in his dish then. He'd always give me this look, purr loudly, and eat his food.
Every nite at dinner time, he always sat patiently on the stool next to me hoping for a little tidbit. Every morning, every night. Scabs was always there. It comforted me, drained away a little of the anxiety I deal with. We always touched our noses together before I ate.
But over the last few months, he just kept getting weaker and skinnier. Vet trips didn't show up anything wrong, he was getting old. Then for the last two wks, I could almost see him wasting away. Two days before he did, I knew it was going to be soon.
We had to go to town for some shopping and stuff. He was getting very weak, but I thought he was going to be OK.
He must have died not to long before we got back. He was still kinda warm. I just broke. He died all alone. I had promised myself that he wasn't going to have to. I let him down. The last >-bleeped-<ing thing I did for him was to leave and let him die alone.
I wrapped him up a little, brought him over to his favorite stool and brushed his fur a little, so he looked good, just looked at him hoping that somehow he really wasn't dead, and wrapped him up nice and snug, but not to snug.
He has a nice little grave out in the flower garden, I can see it from the window over the kitchen sink. I put half of an oval mirror against the fence there for a sortof tombstone.
Every morning and every dinner has been sad to not have him there. Everyday I cry just little, because I miss him.
Last nite, they came and got me to go take a look at Cow. A really big, like 30lb, long haired black and white cat. He had howled a couple times and then couldn't get up. He seemed OK except for his eyes being really dilated. Didn't seem to hurt anywhere. I picked him up to move him out of the hallway so he wouldn't get stepped on last night and he seemed fine with it.
This morning he was laying at the bottom of the stairs and couldn't get up, but looked when I said his name. Called the vet as soon as they opened, and bundled him for the ride.
On the way, he cried softly and had a scared look in his eyes. Then he screamed a howling kinda a scream and I could feel the wetness through the towel I was holding him in. But, he seemed a little better and his eyes stopped being dilated for a bit. The vet was right there to look him over, so that was nice.
Took some blood, which was real watery. Not enough red cells. His temp was about 5 degrees below normal, and I could see then how jaundiced he looked. Blood work showed low red cells off the bottom of the chart and white cells off the top. We decided to at least try, and got him on a glucose drip to see if his energy level would go up enough to try a blood transfusion.
Nothing to do but wait. We went to the store for a few things, it's just a couple blocks away. As we were leaving, we got the call. He didn't make it. I just couldn't even think. The world in that small instance had changed and I was overwhelmed.
Went to pick him up, they had him in a nice sturdy white cardboard box with his name on it. Not fancy, but a nice box I thought. As I was putting him in the back of the car, the box ripped open on the end. Remember he's a really big cat. Well, I had to open the box all the way to redo it and there he was, all nice and cleaned and his fur brushed up nice. So peaceful, I thought. I just lost it.
two cats, two weeks. I had know idea how attached I had gotten to them. Then I realized that they must have been attached to me too. The dumb little things like how they would just have to be in my room every so often, for nothing it seemed than to lay on the floor or my bed. The little meows of recognition when we passed in the hall and especially outside. How Cow always helped by being in the way when I was gardening and doing yard work. Just all those cat things they do.
It's been over 10hrs now since I got home and I can't stop bawling and crying every so often. I think I will some more here in a bit. It's not because I'm so sad, I am, it's because I didn't see the love that was right in front of me while they were alive.
It's about the love
