I am gutted. Three days ago my seemingly healthy 8 year old TOP cat, Zeff, dropped dead while I was in the other room.
I am no stranger to loss, but it is so much harder when you don't get to say goodbye. And it makes no difference what species a loved one happens to be. I have lived alone out here on the Mesa for seven years. My feline family has seen me through years alone on the mesa and through two and a half years of the pandemic. They are my babies and my companions.
Zeffyr was born a runt and grew into a great fine puss.
I never said it out loud but he was my favorite. I love all my fur babies but he had the top spot. He arrived here 7 years ago, just 3 days after I did with his sister Luna and Moo who is 8 years older. The two young ones were about a year old. All 3 hid in all the likely spots and some unlikely ones as well. First out was Luna because she has to be first. Then Moo because he has a thing about contact. It took two weeks for tiny Zeff to finely come out and approach me. I called him out over and over, and one day he came out and jumped on my lap. And stole my heart.
The others would demand attention. Zeff, always unassuming, would put up one paw when he wanted lap time. And wait till invited. But he was the fiercest mouser and the greatest adventurer. I hardly noticed as he got bigger and more powerful. One day about five years ago I realized I had an 18 pound tiger. His tail was always curled and his favorite thing was to sleep on his back with his paws in the air, always ready for the belly rub. His tummy fur was ginger. But mostly he was just a regular guy. I called him Pete as a nickname for that reason. His purr was so quiet I actually looked up whether all cats purr. But as he got older I could hear it. His meow was quiet too. But his personality was big and sweet.
I believe it was his heart. He showed no signs of illness. Cats will hide it when they are unwell, but if you live closely with them you can tell. He was absolutely normal. It had been a normal day. When I gave them the Greenie treats he was right in there with the others. About 5 minutes later I heard a small thump but ignored it because things get knocked down all the time.
But I needed to measure something in the bedroom so I took the tape and walked around the bed. And saw him lying there. He always plopped down anywhere on the tile but something looked wrong. I called his name and got no response as I ran over and dropped to my knees to check on him. Limp and lifeless. I began to wail, as I lifted him up and wrapped him in a blanket.
Tears do not come easily to me. I cry as much as a Fremen on Dune, which is to say, so seldom as to make it remarkable. This was went beyond crying. It was more like howling.
But it is high summer. Hot, with flies around. So I had my kitty funeral. I am not weak but I don’t have endurance especially when I am the tears are coming so fast I can hardly see. I got the shovel from the garage and found a soft spot and dug as long as I could. It was late afternoon and the sun was low in the sky. I would dig till breathless, take a short break, and dig some more. I buried him there, and then piled up stones to keep predators at bay. There are coyote out here. The grave was still shallow, despite my best efforts. I do not want his resting place defiled.
And now comes the wondering.
It was not poison. He shared food and water with his family and they are all fine. It was so fast. Even if I had run in when I heard the thud I could not have saved him.
That does not stop me from thinking about everything I might have done wrong. I should have let him out on the catio more. I should have given him catnip. I should have protected him. I know it was almost surely a heart attack from an unknown congenital heart defect, but that does not help. I should have protected him. I know it is not my fault. I still wish I hadn’t moved him out of the way in the last few days when I was trying to work on the computer and he was weaving around it giving me the kittie salute. I would give anything now to have him stomping on my keyboard with his ass in my face. He always slept on the bottom of the bed. And when I look I can almost see him, but the space is empty, no matter how I squint.
Last night I had a dream. I was in a big green field, walking with Zeff, and with all the others, human and not, that I have loved and lost.
Knowing that everything that exists dies doesn’t do a damn thing for the pain. Even with the ones where there is time to prepare it is excruciating.But with the ones who go suddenly it is almost unbearable. Zeff has really been my best friend for seven years, and especially throughout the pandemic. Like all dear friends he is irreplaceable.
I didn't get to say goodbye. But I will say it now. Goodnight my little fur man. And if there is a summer country, I will see you there in the sweet by and by.
This is for every one of us who has lost someone suddenly. Life is so fragile. Love the heck out of your people now. Every damn day. In the end there is only love.
I’m so horribly sorry, Annabel. Those of us who have lost a beloved animal companion know that it’s the loss of a family member, not “just a pet” (whatever people mean by that). Of course you’re left wondering if there’s anything you could have done, even though you’re absolutely right that you couldn’t have. When you’re able to, take comfort in knowing that he had a very happy life with you until the very end, and that he almost certainly never experienced even a moment of pain or distress. You’ll still miss him. But that’s okay. Sending you much love and a big hug.
I join you in your sorrow. I lost one of mine a few months ago and we're still grieving here. So sad...