Goodbye

On Tuesday February 21st I left work at 3 pm so I could go to the walk-in clinic near my house and get on antibiotics for whatever I had. After I dropped off the prescription, I drove home and thought I'd sit outside for awhile and get some fresh air, since it was so nice outside. It was a little before five pm. As I got to my house I could see that a small animal had been run over right in front of it. My heart started racing and I started saying "Oh God no, please, no, no, no."

The rescue that I got my cat from (originally as a foster) does not believe in cats being let outside. But I have over an acre of land, and Carlos never went to the road. He was scared of cars and wouldn't even go up to the mailbox. He loved to play in the backyard though, and he was so much happier when he got to go out some. When I left that morning, he was sitting on the railing of the deck, twitching his tail.

I pulled into the driveway and got out of the car, already crying, and ran to the road. He had been hit so badly that I almost wasn't sure it was him. But I could tell it was his fluffy tail, and his soft foot. I kept thinking he must not have been there long - if I'd gotten home earlier, maybe it wouldn't have happened. There were some people on their drive home that day who had to witness a fully grown woman crouched by the road with her head in her hands, sobbing.

Oh god. This is why I've put off writing this, because it still makes me cry. *deep breath*

I went back to my car and got my cell phone and called M and left him a message which he probably couldn't understand since I was crying so hard. I took a sheet and went and wrapped the cat in it and brought him back to the house. For awhile I just sat and held the bundle, and stroked his foot that was sticking out. I kept hoping it wasn't him, that he'd come running up at any minute and we'd have a good laugh at me holding this strange cat. I talked to M and he agreed to come over and help me. Finally, I couldn't do nothing anymore so I picked out a spot and started digging the grave. I picked a spot between two old logs next to the creek where he liked to play. By now it was twilight and the wind was getting colder. I tried to keep shoveling, but when I looked down into that cold, dark dirt I would drop to the ground, doubled over in pain at the thought of having to put my fluffy baby in there. He likes warmth, he likes to be in the sun. I tried to keep working. I could see the dark purple sky through the trees, since I was facing the woods that were across the creek. I kept hearing leaves rustle behind me, and I would instantly think it was him, coming to help! What are you doing, Mommy? I've got to be a part of it! I kept asking please let that happen, please let me be wrong. But there was no miracle for me that day. Just that cold purple sky.

M finally arrived and brusquely helped finish the task and offered a few reality checks. I know he meant well but I didn't need those at that time. I needed my cat. I felt riddled with guilt, thinking of the times I'd left the cat alone at home so I could go spend time with this person. I cried until I had no more tears left and took anything I could find that might help me sleep and then by the next morning there were plenty of tears left to cry. Between that and the strep, I spent three days in bed. M did his best on Wednesday - got me out of the house for a bit and took me to an early dinner at one of my favorite restaurants. But that night, I didn't want to go home and face not having my cat. Those were the hardest times - when I left the house and when I returned, because it was so obvious that he wasn't there anymore. I asked M if I could please stay there that night but he would not let me. I got extremely upset and that is when things began to go downhill but this post is not about him.

As each day went by, it got a little easier and I could talk about it without crying. I had to go through it all again when Tigger came back to stay with me. He and the kitty were best friends, and he looked and looked through the house for him. He looked up at me and asked "Where's the cat?" I tried my best to explain but - I mean.

I learned the real meaning of heartbreak when he got me to go outside with him so he could look for him. And then my dog, who rarely sits down and just sits, especially when he's outside, sat down on the bottom stair of the deck for nearly a half hour, watching and waiting for his cat-friend to come home. I guess he has finally accepted it but it is still wrenching to think about. And that is why I put off blogging about it, even though I wanted - needed to.

I still come home and think he might be there. I miss having him sleep on my head or sit on it and pull my hair. There's no one to bring up dead moles or squirrels. The other day I made myself clean out his litter box and pick up his toys and put them away so I wouldn't stumble over constant reminders. As if death isn't cruel enough, we are always left to deal with what they leave behind.

Goodbye, baby. Mommy loved, and still loves, you so much. You were the best. We miss you.