Content warning: Pet death
My baby died today. We only had him for six months.
When we adopted him from our neighbor he was already sickly. He had heterochromia and was a little fucking runt that got bullied by his siblings because he was so small. His fur was badly kept and he was a little stinker who wasn't potty trained and kept biting the box we kept him in. I loved him instantly.
He was a little fucking rat who was weak and didn't play all that much. He was constantly cold so he'd go to us for cuddles and when he'd gotten old enough, would jump onto our laps for warmth. We didn't even know if he was a guy or a girl because he was so malnourished and his balls didn't drop.
The longer he stayed the fatter he got and the better his fur started to look. He became less reliant on us to regulate his body heat and started showing more signs of his personality. He was incredibly playful and would keep play-biting us, never really putting any strength into his bites. He loved playing with hair.
When I would stay up at night working because it was too hot to work in the day he'd stay near me and keep me company. He'd sit by my feet or at a nearby chair and when he saw that I was still awake at 3 am he'd start meowing at me and bothering me until I went to bed. He'd groom himself before sleeping and I would hold his paw and rub it gently. He'd groom my fingers and let me hold him.
He always slept so fucking wide that it ended up reminding me of one of my old dogs. He'd let you pat his stomach but only for so long. He loved being scratched a little under his right cheek. He loved being held but only if he asked you too. You could hold him to your chest and see his eyes go wide as your bangs move and know that in a moment he'd attack it. I sleep in the living room to avoid the heat and every morning I'd wake up because he'd get the zoomies at 7 and proceed to use every part of me as a jumping pad. When he was sick he'd cuddle up with me to look for warmth. He let me kiss his forehead. He didn't like baths and kept running but he never scratched me. It was always easier to cut his nails when he was sleepy in the afternoons. I once lost a match because he'd covered my screen and made it impossible to see.
I could hold him in my palm when he was a baby and then I had to carry him like a baby when he grew up. He would let strangers pet him. He hated other cats. He loved playing with his sister who lives at my aunt's. He loved watching people walk by outside our house. The one time he got out without us knowing he'd bumped his head on the window trying to get in and I'd laughed so hard. He was an iPad kid before he got bored of it. He'd watch birds on tv for hours and then after a while tried to capture them. And then he realized the birds on tv weren't real.
He started capturing mice and birds. He loved jumping on my legs when he was feeling playful. When he had to wear a cone because he got injured he fucking hated it and looked like a sad lamp. It was hilarious.
I love him so much. I'm sure I'll remember more as the days go on. My grief always comes in waves.
Today I held him for the last time. I could see him struggling. I could hear his troubled breathing as I stroked his fur and despite it all he still purred. He wouldn't eat. When he died, I heard my sister scream. I could feel the warmth leave his body. His mouth was open and the life was gone from his eyes.
I held him for as long as I could. I could feel him grow colder. His head flopped. He didn't struggle in my arms. He didn't breathe. I watched as the pink nose and mouth id come to love go grey. I felt it as his body went limp.
I held him for as long as I could. I lifted him upright against my chest, one of the positions he loved being in so he could peer at my neighbours over my shoulder. His head flopped onto my chest and for a moment it reminded me so thoroughly of how he moved when he was alive and I started crying again. I'm still crying now.
I love him so much. I miss him so much. I tried so hard to keep him alive. I didn't want to lose another pet so soon.
When we wrapped him in his blanket and put him in a box to be buried, I kept his collar. It's with me now. The paw charm that hung from it I've placed on a necklace to keep on me. The collar, I'm not ready yet to clean. I still have to clean his litter box. I have to pack up his things.
I miss him so much. I'll still miss him a few months from now, the same way I miss my dogs. I'll see a video that reminds me of any of them and cry knowing that I'll never feel that warmth again. They could never replace each other, and I don't want them to. Even if we get a new pet someday they won't be replaced because I love all of them as they are. I love them so much. I wish I had more time with him. I tried so hard to keep him alive. I wish he was still alive. I wish we had him for longer. I wish I could still bury my face in his fur and kiss his forehead and wake up from him stepping on my face. I know when we got him he was already sickly and on borrowed time. I still wish we had more. I hope he's at peace now. I love him so much. I miss him. I miss him. I miss him. I miss him.
I wish I could hold him for longer. I wish he was still warm. I wish the tip of his tail could twitch again the way it did when he liked the scratches on his lower back. I wish he was here.
I have his collar on my wrist and his charm over my heart.
I have to go back to work.
I hope you're at peace now baby. I love you, Toula.
I miss you. I miss you. I love you.
He was alive for 11 months. A little more and he could've been a year old.
Edit: It's storming right now. The timing would be almost funny if I wasn't so fucking sad. Toula hated the thunder. I remember when he slept on my bed only two weeks ago as I played on my pc. Lightning struck so near that the sound was loud and instant. We both jumped. I miss him.
Edit: he liked laying in boxes and bags. He liked to sleep in the dust pan no matter how dirty he got. He would wait at the kitchen window to look at neighbourhood strays because we fed them through there. The one time we brought him on a road trip he refused to shit in the litter we brought because he preferred his litter box. He always smelled nice. He loved watching my dad do manual labor. He'd keep playing with screws whenever we assembled furniture. My machine cuts would always come out wrong because he'd keep attacking my cricut. I miss how he'd wake up if we had to pee in the middle of the night and guard us while we were on the toilet. He'd squint and yawn but stay with us the whole time anyway.
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