Eulogy

Since my look back at 2007 post I’ve wanted to write something about the loss of my cat. Just writing that feels silly. My cat. Even though that is what she undoubtably was, I don’t see her that way. Maybe when I was a kid I did, but not anymore. I’m going to try and describe why.

Fuzzy arrived at my house back in 1991. At least that’s when I think it was. I was probably in the 2nd grade. We had a cat in the house named Mallomar after the cookie that my sister loved. Mallomar belonged to my sister. He was a birthday or Christmas gift. I was never jealous or anything. In my eyes the cat belonged to the whole family. The year after we got Mallomar my older brother brought Fuzzy home for me. So I could have a cat of my own. She was the runt of the litter he said. Covered in fleas. He basically rescued her.

Over the next few years the I remember a few things about her. She was always friendly. Some cats are very picky and moody. They only want attention when it is convenient to them. Fuzzy was never this way. She spent most of her time on the living room couch. That way whenever there was someone at the house she would get some attention. I remember my grandmother and my great-grandmother both loved her. She would come right up to people when they sat down. When you stopped petting her she would lick your hand. I’m not sure if it was a thank you or if she wanted you to help clean her. I’ve never met another cat who was affectionate like that though. I remember when she used to come into my bed when I went to sleep. So long as you didn’t pet her she would lay there with you nice and still. The minute you did pet her she would get up and walk back and forth over you looking for more attention. I remember laying there wanting to pet her so bad but I didn’t want her to get up. I remember saying to my mom if she ever died I would have to take a whole week off of school to recover. I couldn’t imagine ever being the same.

I don’t remember when she started doing it, but she would come when I snapped my fingers. Another thing I had never seen another cat do. Maybe a dog would come when you called, maybe a cat would come if you tried to get it’s attention, but Fuzzy would come from the other side of the house when I snapped. She had this loyalty that still affects me.

Throughout my adolescence and early teen years I don’t remember a ton of specific things. She was just always there. Every hard time, every good time she was there. I used to pretend I could talk to her. Just have a normal conversation like she was my best friend. I could tell her everything and she would never judge. She would always be waiting for me when I got home.

When we did the move to New Jersey of course she was right by my side. She was there in the hotel with us for that month. She was there when the house was first built. The move was so hard on me I retreated to myself. I hated everyone for bringing me there. During those high school years I loved her but wasn’t as close to her as I had been. When graduation finally came I left New Jersey and didn’t look back. Naively thinking things would be the same as before I left. They weren’t.

After I left Northeastern and the family moved to New Hampshire I redeveloped my closeness with her. She was more loyal than ever. It was the first time I ever really realized how special she was. As time went on we became more and more attached. The summer Lark lived with us was a really tough time for me. Our relationship was going through all sorts of ups and downs. I spent the whole summer sleeping on the couch, but I knew every night when I went to sleep on that couch Fuzzy would come running. Almost as if she waited for me to go to bed. It was every night without fail. It felt like I had someone who really understood me in a tough time.

When Lindsey moved out and I took her room it became our room. Fuzzy and me. She barely left it! After Luna started to get incredibly obese we even fed Fuzzy in my room. Every night when I got home she was waiting for me on my bed. If I spent a night out of the house I felt bad and missed her. Every time I saw her she was excited to see me. I think it was during this time she started to lose her hearing. She no longer noticed if I snapped. I didn’t need to though. She was always where I needed her. It was us against the world. As she got older she started to pee on the furniture. The doctor said it was from early kidney failure and urinary tract infections. We were told that even with this problem cats can still live for a long time. I didn’t worry. I knew she would be okay. I knew she was getting old but I told people I hoped that I died first. I wouldn’t be able to handle the loss.

Starting work at HSG gave me the money I needed to actually move out. This time though Fuzzy was coming with me. After I got all settled in to the new place, I drove the car up, packed her stuff, put her in the carrier and brought her to her new home. She did some exploring and I know how moves can be hard on a cat, but I was confident she would like it with us better. I could come home to her every night and I knew she would get the love and attention she needed as often as possible. In my blind love I didn’t notice she had started to lose weight. She stopped eating. When Lark brought it up I dismissed it saying she’s fine. After a few days I came to the realization she wasn’t 100% anymore. I knew she had kidney problems, but I wasn’t terribly worried. I was going to go first remember? We were told to give her fluid under the skin, give her appetite stimulant if she didn’t eat, and put potassium in her food. “Anything for her”, I would say. I was going to keep her happy and healthy forever.

2 months went by and she took a turn for the worse. She stopped eating and I noticed blood in her pee. She only had a week left at that point...

At times I feel guilty. Like I could have done more to save her. When she died it felt like my life was over. I was supposed to go first. What am I still doing here? What is the point of it all. We just live our pointless lives to die alone. I still feel that way sometimes. I am always missing her. If I’m out I think to myself “gotta get home soon, don’t want to leave her alone for too long.” I open the door to my apartment and think I should look out, I don’t want her to go outside. For the first several nights I could barely sleep. She was supposed to be there with me.

I know I will never see her again, but I will always carry my memory of her in my heart. She was the best companion I could ever ask for. I considered her one of the most important women in my life. She will be missed.