Monday, September 27, 2004

What do you mean the company doesn't offer cat bereavement leave???

Don’t worry, I’m not *totally* devestated about the Kittlin. I had a good sobfest on Friday when I got home and saw him in the box Curt had put him in. I think I scared the landscapers working in the neighbor's yard. He looked just like a perfect stuffed animal you could pull of a shelf. Only cold, and stiffer, and his eyes were rolled back. His fur was still shiny and silky soft, and there was no sign of traumatic external injuries. Everything must have been internal.

Apparently when Curt first showed him to Jinx she tried to wake him up, then got all confused when he didn't respond. She stayed confused all weekend, even though we let her say goodbye before burying him in his favorite sunning spot. She’d look for him everywhere, want to go outside constantly to try to find him. Didn’t even want to play Chuck-A-Duck (her favorite daily fetching game). We tried to distract her as much as possible with car rides and lots of love. I think she’s adjusted a bit. But she still looks absolutely miserable.

We spent the rest of the weekend a bit weepy as we remembered all the things we were going to miss about him. The shoe fetish, of course. His pathetic little meow that he’d announce himself with as he came in the room. His begging for dairy products everytime we opened the fridge (if out of milk, sour cream made a most excellent alternative). The little batch of white under his nose that made him look like a reverse of Adolf Hitler with a milk moustache. His ability to play with balls on the basement stairs all by himself (drop at top, watch bounce to bottom, pick up with mouth and go back up again). I buried his favorite superball with him. How he’d hang out with me when I took a bath, or when getting dressed in the morning. His love for chasing bugs in the evenings. He was just getting past that aloof teenage phase and was getting a lot lovier. He’d always come in and say Hi when I came home - usually when I was sitting on the toilet. How he’d adopted my butt-ugly, homemade rag rug as his bed when he hung out with Jinx in the laundry room while we were gone. And how he loved that dog. They’d play, and play and play… then curl up together and sleep.

So I’m OK. I’ll miss him terribly, and everytime the weather changes I think about how he could be alive right now enjoying it. But it wasn’t meant to be. It was just this time last year when Mom snuck him up, causing the first strain on our new marriage (sneaking introduction of new pets into the household was a time-honored tradition in our house. Not so Curt’s). I don’t plan on getting another kitten anytime soon. We’ve got the 3 other cats, which is plenty. And the baby coming.

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