Sometimes I have plans for a story and then I forget what it was I wanted to write about. Sometimes I have plans for a post and life presents a new topic for me. This week… This week is a little bit of both.
I had a plan for this week’s story, and next week’s as well. Where I live, school is about to begin. In my head, I had intended to write summer-related and Marine Corps tales during the summer months. A set of sort of seasonal stories—so to speak. So, this week was going to be one more summertime tale, then next week would be a school story. Alas, despite my best efforts (short of actually writing it down) I cannot recall what this week was intended to be.
However, as I sit at my computer, looking over my list of potential topics, I just can’t find the one I want to write about—nor do I really feel like writing anything. With that in consideration, let me explain why: the family cat died. Well, not the family cat, per se. It was—more specifically—my daughter’s (both of them). (I know what I wrote)
Understand that for many years I wanted a pet for my children. A pet that they could play and interact with. We had already done the fish route. Later, we would get our first cat (which is a whole other story). Eventually, we would find the perfect dog. But, before the dog, there were two other cats. Dawn, and Twilight. (I know what I wrote)
As the children were older, and we now had our own home, it was time to get a proper pet. Or, if we couldn’t find one, maybe a cat (I know what I wrote). Everyone wanted a dog, however, I knew that a dog is a lot of responsibility and that the children may not be ready for all the responsibility a dog brings—despite their claims to the contrary. My family was at the local animal shelter and we were strongly considering a Red Heeler. Unfortunately, she had a sister. I say ‘unfortunately’ because everyone would feel terrible about breaking up the family, and while one dog would be great (especially a Heeler), two might be more than the children could handle.
In the end, we let a family that really, really wanted the Heelers, take them. I think it was for the best.
This did not solve the pet problem. We still needed something. My wife and I thought that it might be easiest to get a cat. Easiest for everyone—cats are pretty self-sufficient. Then, after some discussion, it was made evident to me that it would be unfair to bring home only one cat. It would require a playmate. Fine… Two cats… Ugh.
Look, I’m not a cat person. I don’t hate them all and wish them all death. No. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Still, I don’t really want them as pets. Yet, there I was, helping my children pick out a couple of cats to bring home. More specifically, helping my oldest daughter pick out a couple of kittens to bring home. As she was the oldest, she would be the most responsible with the cats. And, she had earned the right to a pet more complex than one that you flush after its life is over.
Because the sparkly vampire books were trending, and there had been a movie about the first of these said novels stories, and because one kitten was a rich black while the other—in contrast—was a golden orange, they were named Twilight and Dawn, respectively.
I still recall the morning when Dawn passed away. The kittens had been with us for only a few weeks and Sarah, in the early morning hours, came into my bedroom, “Dawn died.” The tears were running down her cheeks. Turns out, the whole litter had become ill from some virus and had already died about a week before Dawn had. Then, later that day, my daughter asked if we could get another kitten. “No.” I wasn’t getting another cat.
It didn’t take long before my wife and Sarah were having a discussion about how unfair and inconsiderate dad was. Fortunately for me, my wife was quite kind. She said something along the lines of, “How unfair is it to demand that dad get another cat? You know he doesn’t like cats. He’s already gotten you three cats and you want him to get a fourth?”
Now, I know how bad this all looks for you cat lovers who may be reading this. I don’t care (I know what I wrote). My family had cats when I was younger. And, cats are fine for many people. However, I don’t want them in my home at this point in my life.
Sarah thought about what her mom had said, apologized for demanding another cat and life went on. It is important to note that one of the conditions for getting cats as pets was that when Sarah was old enough to leave the house, the cats would go with her. This was a deal everyone was on board with. This was perfectly clear to one and all. I had the support of my wife. Then, I was betrayed.
When my youngest turned twelve, for Christmas, her sister gave her the black cat, Twilight. That meant Twilight was going to remain in the house for many more years. Nooo… My wife and my oldest had conspired against me, behind my back, to do this. I was quietly angry for a very long time. Everyone but me had broken the deal.
The thing is, it worked out really great. As it would turn out, Aurora would need the cat. It became a comforter to her on bad days. When things turned stressful, the cat was there for her. I still was not happy about the cat in my house, but I was happy about what the cat did for my daughter.
With each passing year, Aurora would go to school and enjoy Twilight’s company afterward. And, with each passing year, I would get nervous for that inevitable day when the cat would not come to her. This year will be her Senior year in high school. I have spent the summer wishing for either the cat to pass peacefully or to hold on for just one more year. I knew how hard it might be for my daughter without her comfort critter, but I also knew how old the cat was (72 cat years). It was going to be any day now. It was Saturday.
This last week my Aurora was away from home and I took care of the cat. No issues. Clean the litter box. Fresh water. Feed her. All the standard take-care-of-a-pet stuff. I even bought some special wet cat food for her (age. it’s easier for them to eat). Then, Saturday arrived and Aurora came home. The cat was happy to see her, then did what many cats do: Went off on her own to do whatever it is she does. No worries.
At the end of the day, it was time to put the cat in her place. She has a nice spot, just for her, in our basement. She actually liked it in there. Also, usually, when eight o’clock in the evening rolls around the cat lets us know it is time for her to get fed and go to bed. But, not that day.
When Aurora and I went looking and calling for her she didn’t respond. Even the typical food being paraded about was not enticing. Even the special wet food that she meowedat me for over twenty minted two nights earlier wasn’t getting her attention. Aurora knew something was up. Also, the purr was gone. No purr.
The two humans made ourselves comfortable for the long haul of the night. We made the cat as comfortable—in the ways she wanted (she let us know)—as possible. Aurora cried. We speaker-phoned mom and waited. About midnight, Aurora felt okay with walking away. She had made peace with what was inevitable. The next morning it was clear the cat had moved on.
We buried her in the backyard, near our lilac tree and a landscape rock (for a headstone). I don’t know how this year will go without the cat. However, all my personal cat-pet feelings aside, I am glad that my daughter had the chance to have a pet that made her feel good. A pet that was a friend to her through these many years, during the good and bad. I think every kid needs a pet like that. While everyone loved the dog, and we all miss him, my daughter loved that cat. And, I’m glad she was in the house.
Even if it was for longer than planned.
Almost Heroes 