Mourning Kitty

Thanks for the kind words, y'all. Here's how it happened:

I was putting away laundry in the linen closet when I heard Kitty in our room -- but he sounded odd. So I peeked around the corner and saw him on the floor at the foot of the bed. And I knew instantly that this was it -- my Kitty was dying.

He was all twisted -- hind legs were pointing one way and the rest of him turned toward the door -- and he looked so scared. I picked him up and put him on the bed, and realized that his back legs were paralyzed. I pretty much lost it at that point.

I was alone with the girls and there wasn't much I could do, so I put in a call to Mikey and sat with my Kitty, petting him and talking to him while he labored for air. Scratched all his favorite places. Petted his poor little legs that were never going to run and jump again. Held his paw and listened to some of the most piteous cries I've ever heard.

Then Mikey came home and rushed in with the kitty carrier.

Oh, honey, you're not gonna need that.

He said that's when he knew how bad it was. So he bundled Kitty up in his arms and rushed off to the vet. Came back with Kitty wrapped up in his little kitty coffin. I'm not sure what-all happened in between -- you'll have to ask him.

Kitty's little heart seized up, the doctor said, and threw off clots that blocked the arteries to his legs. He would've been 11 years old at the end of this month.

We buried him last night, under a nice grove of trees on Grandma Sarah's back lot. Would've done it this weekend in the daylight but, with the weather getting warmer, we just weren't sure we could wait that long.

The funeral went like this: Mikey loaded the car while I waited in the house, then he came and got me and we climbed in the car and he started it up. Then he turned it off.

Oh, no.

What is it?

I put everything in the other car.

Oh, for Pete's sake...

Got out, got in the other car. He started it up. Then he turned it off.

Forgot to grab Kitty's dishes.

They're in the dishwasher.

I'll be right back.

I was glad he thought about the dishes. I'd tried to think of something special to bury with Kitty, but his favorite toys were Mikey and me.

Sat and waited long enough to wonder what Mikey was doing, then heard him coming out the door. Then I heard a crash.

Oh, my God.

What happened?

I dropped the dishes.

Both of them?

Shattered. Both of them.

Ah, well. Gathered the pieces up in a plastic bag, along with a square piece of cardboard that he'd cut from Kitty's most recent scratching post -- a box of merchandise that's been sitting in the dining room for months. I suspect Mikey wrote something on the piece he cut out, but he's taking Kitty's death pretty hard too so I didn't pry.

Got to Grandma's and dug the hole -- in the dark, since we didn't have the presence of mind to round up a flashlight beforehand. Only had headlights shining across the field to see by.

Mikey asked if I wanted to see Kitty one last time.

No! I can't!

I peeked, and he looks real normal. Like he's just curled up asleep.

Then he put Kitty's little coffin next to the hole. And opened it.

Aaaack!!! What are you doing?

So I saw Kitty one more time. He did look normal. Peaceful. And that was a relief, because the last time I saw him -- he wasn't.

Tucked Kitty into his grave (along with his dish fragments) and said a prayer, thanking God for the coolest kitty He ever made. Mikey shoveled the dirt back in, replaced the sod he'd carefully cut away, and then paced off the distance to the nearest tree. I'd noticed some branches blooming overhead, so I walked over to get a closer look. Then we met back at the grave, or tried to. Couldn't find it in the dark.

Felt a lot better on the drive home, due to the closure thing, I guess. Felt better today than I did yesterday. I'm just really sad because I miss him so much. He was my little buddy for such a long time.