Warning: This post will be heavy on the photos and also on emotion.
Earlier this evening, I discovered that one of my cats, the handsome Mischu Isaiah, had passed. There are no words to describe how I feel right now other than heart broken. He was 8 years old and had been with me almost since his birth. I don't know how it happened, or honestly, when.... This is a fact that makes me feel guilty and irresponsible, both things I am not! However, my grief right now is blinding and I don't understand how it is possible for me not to remember the last time I saw someone I loved so much..... Was it Wednesday night? I swear he ran under the bed when I was watching Netflix....no wait, he sat and watched me get ready for work one morning this week, what day was that? I hope it wasn't long and I pray he felt no pain... It must have happened Thursday when I was at work...... Or maybe just this morning? I will never know for sure.
When I found him, he looked peaceful. It was as though he had gone for a nap in his favorite chair in the basement, and just never woke up. I'm glad he chose his favorite spot, tucked away, as it is now my final memory of him and it was quintessentially "him". He was an independent boy who, admittedly never fully adjusted to our getting a dog 4 years ago and therefore kept to himself a lot. It wasn't unusual for you not to see him as often as his "siblings" and that suited him just fine.
He was such a sweet little boy whose favorite method of greeting was a head butt, and they weren't always gentle either. I was woken many a morning, thinking my nose was broken, just to stare into this sweet little face!
Mischu came into my life unplanned. A gf of mine had a roommate who had gotten a kitten, and then decided she was moving out into a building that did not allow pets. She said she had tried looking for a home but could not find one and was going to surrender him to the Humane society. Upon hearing this I immediately said, "as long as he gets along with my other cat, I'll take him!" So we drove over to my place to do a test run. He was so tiny he fit in one hand and when we brought him in, there was initially some tension between the two and some hissing, but we left the two of them together to sort out their differences and when we checked in on them, we found them kind of like this:
There was no question, he was part of the family!
The two of them were pretty inseparable as kittens and I loved that they kept each other company. He was my little "diamond-back" boy, as he had a beautiful marking to go with his lovely coat. He had tiger stripes on his back and cheetah spots on his belly. And boy was he cute!
He was curious as all get and one of his favorite things ever, was a box! He'd use any excuse to pop himself into any box, or box-like item lying around. They were his safe place....
A poker set would suffice...
A Christmas tree box was more than enough!
He was even carted around a party one year as "Cat-weiser".... Boy did he make me (and everyone that night) smile!
There are things around the house that I will never look at again the same. The things he found amusement in, that I would find about, and sometimes (just sometimes...) would even let linger longer on the floor, just for him: hair elastics, bottle caps, he also had quite an affinity for newspaper, magazines and crossword puzzles! You couldn't read around here without his interference. His poor Grammy couldn't get a break doing her puzzles as he was always there to assist.
I always felt that he had been taken from his mom a little too soon as there were things he just never quite understood. One of those things was that he insisted on suckling on a blanket for the first couple years I had him. His favorite blanket of course, was also mine!
I not sure when exactly he stopped, but I guess he eventually grew out of it. His favorite thing to be doing was to hang. As in literally letting his limbs hang down over something. Our last place had plant ledges that ran around the perimeter of the loft-like ceilings. I know he missed them immensely when he moved here and instead found his safe perch on the half wall at the top of the stairs!
While not actually hanging here, it is one of his most recent photos and represents him well! He also really lived a good photo shoot, when he was around to be in them....
While it is evident that I am torn up about things, I don't actually know if his "brother and sister" really get that he is gone.... I mean they definitely know I am upset and I've referred to him a lot tonight. I feel like Grey kind of knows. I feel like he tried to tell me last night and I didn't clue in.... I brought him down to say goodbye before my friend came by for moral support and assistance. I'm not sure if that went good or bad, but I felt like it needed to happen, so I did it. But I thought it wise to keep Finley out of things, I feel like they never quite bonded so it just seemed appropriate, It hurts my heart to think about and I can't help but picture the times that he and Greyson spent together, before the dog came around, when they were twinsies.
But again, it wasn't unusual to find him napping alone, often in some compromising position:
:)
I understand that some people do not like cats, or understand how on earth anyone can be this torn up about an animal and to them, I hope they just keep that to themselves. Everyone is different, and as someone without children, who has had pets since the week I first moved out on my own, the only thing I can say is that he was my baby boy. He absolutely always will be. Losing him today was tough. One of the hardest moments of my life, and no, I'm NOT being dramatic! I probably would have gone crazy had I not had a warm little buddy (or three) to cuddle up with, and hug tightly when I was sad or sob onto the back of when I was hurting, and talk to when I am alone to make it be less scary to be sad, heart broken and lonely.
As with each of my pets, we had our "things". The stuff that we did together that I didn't do with any of the other babies. With Mischu, in addition to the head butt, we fought over his unrolling the toilet paper most mornings as he watched me get ready. He also sat on my lap, on his bum, like a person. We'd usually do so in the washroom, so he could watch in the mirror. He'd look up at me and I'd kiss his head and I would just hold him, sitting there, for as long as he'd let me.
Good grief, I am practically a teenager in this photo, but that's kind of how we'd do it. Just sitting together, letting me rub his belly :). I'll miss that little spotted belly!
I still am not 100% sure what I want to "do" with him now.... I did some research and spoke with friends who shared stories and experiences and expressed their sympathies. I feel confident that the next few days will be tough but that in the end, my heart will make the decision that suits it, and him, best. He is fortunately/unfortunately, my first baby to leave me and I am so incredibly confused on top of all the other emotions of grief I am feeling.
There's a few ideas running in my head right now, on some way I'd like to memorialize my boy. I'm sure I'll be sharing those as soon as I am feeling up to it, and able to put them into fruition.
As I get ready to try and sleep tonight, I know my boy will never be forgotten. He will always have a piece of his momma's heart that can never be replaced. Oh Mischu, my Emmy, my Shuey, Meems,
" I carry your heart with me ( I carry it in my heart)..." - E.E Cummings
Xoxoxo - mommy