Nox

On Tuesday, concerned that my cat was ill, I took her to an emergency veterinarian around midnight. When we got there, though, she seemed okay and we ended up bringing her home.

Except that, over the next few days, she didn't seem to be getting better. So we scheduled an appointment with another vet, figured we'd get all the tests and such done, find out what was wrong, and everything would be okay. We made an appointment for early this morning, around 8 AM.

In three hours, I would learn that my beloved kitty was in dire condition. I would learn that her kidneys were failing her due to a blockage in her bladder. I would learn that the surgery that could have saved her would do nothing for the kidney damage. That things were already too far gone.

Three hours after I arrived, I held Nox in my arms and watched them inject the needle into her leg. I held her as she squirmed in protest. I held her as she tried to understand, tried to resist what was happening to her. I held her and hugged her and told her how much I loved her.

I held her as she died. I was the last thing she ever saw.

Today is October 22, 2010. It was exactly two years and two days ago, on October 20, 2008, that this strange little grey cat followed me home. Two years ago, I took her in, thinking I would find her and return her to her owners. Two years ago, since I learned the sad truth that she'd been abandoned and didn't have anybody.

But it didn't matter, because by the time I learned that, she had someone. She had me. And ever since then, she's always had me. We've moved from that apartment since then. I've had roommates come and go; some of them were fond of her, some not so much.

But it didn't matter, because she always had me.

I wrote once on my Twitter feed that I suspected my cat had abandonment issues, given that she'd been shuffled from place to place before she came to me.... she had at least two other owners, before me, that I'm aware of. She would do this thing where, when I would come home from a long day and lie down, she would leap onto my chest and curl up there. Or if I was moving around, she would demand to be held closely, tightly, as if to remind her that she was wanted. That she was loved.

I know that for some people, the idea of loving a cat this much is strange. Cats aren't like dogs. How can you love something that's so aloof? The joke is, after all, that dogs have masters and cats have staff.

My cat, for the few years I had her, was my most loyal and beloved companion. She was there for me every moment, every time life threw me another curve ball, every time I was disappointed, or hurt, or angry, or sad, she was there. Every time I held her closely and listened to her purr, she made my world that much better, that much more bearable.

She was as much mine as I was hers. She didn't really like to share me, and would become jealous when people came over and drew my attention away from her. That was a big thing to her, exactly where my attention was; if I was working at my desk, she made sure to sleep on the space between the monitor and my keyboard. If I was at the kitchen table, she'd be sprawled out in the middle. If I was watching a movie on my bed, well, she had her side of the bed and I had mine. If I had a bowl of cereal, we'd share it. Well, after first, she just lapped at it when I wasn't looking and I'd push her away, but eventually, I just came to accept the fact that it was our bowl, not mine.

There was an intelligence and understanding in her eyes whenever I looked at her, and her expressions would range from bored to amused to mistrustful, depending on whether she was watching my fingers fly across the keyboard or trying to approach her with the hated brush.

Losing a cat is different than losing a dog. When I lost my dogs, it felt like members of the family were gone, which is, of course, what they were. But with Nox, it feels like I've lost more than a friend. It feels like I've lost a piece of myself, an aspect of my life that came to define me in a hundred different small ways. She shaped my life as much as I shaped hers.

She was as much mine as I was hers.

And now I'm sitting here, having said my goodbyes and kissed my beloved cat one last time before she was taken away. I look around the room, and my eyes fill with tears when I look at the place where she made my papers into her bed. Or when I look at her toys, lying on the floor from the last time she played with them. I pick up the little orange mouse that I bought for her, and I remember watching her pounce on it as I dragged it across the floor. I remember playing "Catch the Pixie" as I shined a laser pointer on the wall and watched her leap at it.

A hundred different memories, a thousand; two years of my life, with her at my side. It seems strange, that it's only been two years; it feels like she's been part of me forever. I try to imagine what my life was like before her, and I can't, and now I'm faced with a future without her, and I.... I don't want to.

I don't want to wake up next morning and not feel her sandpaper tongue licking my face. I don't want to come home at night and not have her standing there by the door, eager to see me.

I don't want to be alone again.

Just as she didn't want to be alone when she came into my life, when she wandered through the door of my apartment, looking cautious but hopeful, as if to say, even then, "maybe this is my home now?"

My dear, dear cat, from the moment you ran through that open door, from the moment you brushed past my leg, you were home. Even though it would take weeks before it was all official, before I learned where you came from, I think at that moment, we both knew that you were mine. As I was yours.

I held you in my arms, my Nox, and loved you with all my heart to your very last breath. In your last moments, I was there, holding you, comforting you, and above all, reminding you that you were not alone.

My beloved Nox, my companion, my friend, my pet, my pretty kitty.

??? - October 22, 2010

I miss you so much.