2009-09-15 My Cat, Buddy

It turns out that curiosity is not what killed the cat, at least not this time. Though in a five-year-old cat who never lost his kitten-like sense of adventure and seemed to lack any sort of common sense, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities.

This cat, as cats tend to be, was part of our family. We loved him and he loved being around his family, me in particular. He followed me around and it seemed as if every time I sat down he’d be in my lap. He loved to go places where he shouldn’t and especially where it seemed like he couldn’t. He was quite the explorer, extremely friendly and affectionate, and very cute and fun.

I said this when he was living so I have no qualms about saying it now, either, but Buddy was the dumbest cat I’ve ever had. He would jump into my lap while I was at the table eating, and continue to jump back up repeatedly as I continued to put him back on the floor. He would blatantly do things right in front of us that he should have known were wrong.

He seemed clairvoyant about where I was going to sit next because regardless of whether it was my desk chair, my chair at the dinner table, or even the couch, he would be already curled up comfortably right in my way.

Like dogs do, Buddy rushed to greet people who arrived home or came to the front door and was anxious for attention. Whenever I was getting ready to leave the house, he’d get onto a chair or barstool and grab at me with his front paws as if asking me to stay. He loved climbing on furniture, playing with anything that moves (including one of my bookmarks that has a tassel), romping with our other cat, and generally being obnoxious.

One of his annoying but endearing habits was how he would spend several minutes kneading and walking around on me trying to find the exact right spot. Sometimes I’d be ready to get up and do something else by then! This process couldn’t be sped up though, because if I tried to get him to settle before he was ready, he’d start all over.

Pets bring so much joy into our lives and their loss gives us so much pain.
As far as we knew, Buddy was perfectly healthy when on Saturday afternoon right before our eyes he became paralyzed. He ran down two flights of stairs to the basement, dragging his motionless hindquarters behind him. Within moments he began exhibiting other symptoms. At the emergency vet he was taken from us immediately to be stabilized.

He had suffered from an embolism due to a heart condition, and the prognosis was poor. He could possibly be cured, and having gotten him there so soon after it happened was a good thing. We decided to go forward with treatment, then held him for a couple minutes before leaving. He was alert and feisty. We left there with some hope, figuring that the following day we’d either visit a recovering cat or face that treatment wasn’t working and we’d have to say good-bye to him.

Just six hours after the symptoms began and while we were rushing to get there in time to see him, Buddy died. I am still in disbelief that he is not here now in my lap interrupting my typing, not climbing on the back of my computer chair or lying on top of my scanner or getting into any other sort of trouble. My oldest daughter, away for school, was unreachable until the next day. Our hearts are broken. Our older cat cannot know what’s happened or whether his pal will be returning.

I’ve lost pets before, and I know the pain fades, and I know it is not the same as losing a human family member. When a member of your household dies, daily life changes, yet it’s only a pet and you are expected to continue on as if all is normal. Sympathy from friends and family has been appreciated. It is hard to go on with all the usual work and other activities as if nothing has changed.

Comforting my young daughter wracked in sobs over her loss is something I wish hadn’t had to happen. Mothers feel the pain of their children as well as their own, making such a loss even more difficult. We thought we had many more years. The only good that will come from this is that we will be able to provide a home for yet another cat waiting for a family.

For now my lap is empty and my heart is heavy.

SherryTatar@ameritech.net