About three months ago we had to say goodbye to our cat Piklz. I have a bunch of things that I need to write but her death has somehow just been blocking me up, and I kept thinking that if I just gave it time I would have enough distance to compose something meaningful.
Well, distance schmistance. The day doesn’t go by when I don’t think of her, and all too often what I think of is the day I held her in my arms while the life left her. It’s not a great memory to have so close at hand, especially not when there are so many wonderful ones. Why don’t I think of her bushing up and attacking the mirror cat, or walking back and forth next to me after I get in the bed, or rolling up the stairs while I pet her?
I think there is something human maybe about wanting to experience the sadness, the agony over and over again. I think maybe the returning to the last moment I had with her feels like I could somehow rewind from there and then she would be again — hopping down the stairs with both front paws, excited to see us and get some petting as we come in the door. Or even just that reliving that moment of loss makes me feel closer to her.
Shit this is hard to write.
You know what I don’t get, it’s that Piklz is hardly the first wonderful cat we’ve said goodbye to. Kim and I have had three before her and each one of them was excellent and wonderful and unique, and they all died and left us grieving. But I didn’t mourn them the way I am mourning her. She was a special cat, it is true, but you move on, right?
OK there is a point to this and it’s not just me being sad about my cat. At least I think there is a point.
I think that as I get older maybe I have less tolerance for loss. Is that possible? You would think I should be inured to it, hardened with calluses. But I think it’s the opposite. I think each day starts to seem precious, each experience, each moment with people and animals and things that we love. I think I’m slowly becoming aware that there is a finite supply of these things and that one day there will not be any more. So a loss hits me harder because I know I’ll never have that again and I know it was a very special thing.
Soon it’s going to be time to get another cat. I look forward to it with joy and anticipation, even though I know what I’m in for down the road. So I guess that means I want the experience, even if it’s painful when it ends.
Goodbye, Piklz. We love you.
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