An Ode to my First Love
This is Zero. Named after Jack Skeletons faithful companion. At the age of seventeen he became mine. He wasn't the first family pet we had, 2 dogs and 2 cats came before him. But he was mine and mine alone. He came to me at four weeks old, so small he was the same size as a coke can (coke Zero my mum would joke). As his eyes changed from a beautiful blue to gold, it reminded me of lapis stones, which since habe became my favourite. I gave that kitten everything I had and willed him to use his feisty spirit to live... And he thrived.
This year in January he was diagnosed with hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, a fancy name for heart failure. We have between 6 to 18 months left together, every moment will be filled with love and affection.
Our family dog, Alfie, helped me raise him. Even though he was a large male Labrador, he nurtured the little fur ball with all the love of a mother. He loved to wash his face after meals, and snuggle in the bed together. Alfie taught him how to play and put up with his loud purring while Zero slightly awkwardly kneaded his side.
We lost him in January of 2020. Before we took him for his final journey, Zero seemed to know. A 7 year old cat with no need for a mother spent every second with him. Washing him lovingly, purring gently in comfort. There was only 3 reasons Zero purred. First was Alfie, second was treats and the third was his favourite teddy. The one in the carrier we bought him home in, the one that gave a abandoned kitten comfort when others couldn't.
I won't lie, Tonight was hard. But not in the sense that he was unwell or struggling. Quite the opposite. A cat that often reminds me of a moody teenager, who hates every second of affection I give him. After I fed him his supper and daily meds, he normally swaggers back to bed with barely a thank you.
But today he chose to stay, to sit on the side. watching my wash his bowl. He began to purr when I scratched his ears just how he likes. A sound I have only heard a handful of times, since we lost Alfie. There was no treats to tempt or coerce the sound from him. It was not directed at the teddy he loves so much. Today it was for me, and me alone. It was almost as if he was saying thank you. Thank you mum for the love given, over and over knowing you would not receive gratitude in return.
It seems like fate we got his terminal diagnosis exactly one year we lost Alfie. A sign telling me that when he goes, he won't be alone. I know, when the time comes, a greying chocolate Labrador will be waiting for him on the other side. It's this belief that keeps me strong enough, to make his time left on this earth meaningful.
