Dear Murphy (4 years)

So the deal is that I write this and then go for a walk, do my reflective thing. And I find myself thinking, maybe I won’t have time for the walk, as if the rest of my day is so important, too important to walk and think about you.

Maisy is on the perch, looking out the window. I love her the most, it’s true. We are too attached, and she is anxious, neurotic, she still over-grooms, but her stomach is fuzzy, she has moved on to her legs instead. I take her out on the harness, and either it goes OK or it goes badly. We’re still trying to work this out. And 2 nights ago, for the first time since she was a kitten, she slept on my lap. That was the prize. As the nights get cooler, she’s remembered the warmth of our bed, so several nights a week there are 3 of us under the duvet. She is a good cat. She’s off the medication, she’s eating the wet food (as well as her dry food crack). I don’t have to worry about her at night, because she’s inside. I’m scared of losing her. I’m scared of finding her cut to pieces.

I’m not ready to write about you yet. My eyes blur when that happens. The garage door is opening, Rebecca on her way out. It has been a bad year for loss. I only use ‘bad’, even though I think really it was terrible, because I know it can, and it will, be worse one day.

Rebecca’s grandmother died at the beginning of the year, and that was sudden for us, because we weren’t there. Rebecca was in her father’s hospital room when she got the news. Can you imagine? No, probably not something cats think about.

Rebecca’s father died in May. It was not sudden. His death, his dying, took over our lives. That’s too much to talk about here, but you know how she was when she got sick back home. You would’ve helped here, too. You would’ve made things better. That’s what I think.

Daisy is chunky. She is beautiful. She loves us in a cat way. She has also slept on my lap once or twice recently. They have discovered this as a possibility. Funny how long it takes. It was 2 years before you started that. Why did you waste so much time? She likes to play, and she still fights magnificently with her sister. They are so good together, and so I can torment myself with thoughts of when one of them dies. Anyway, we move the cat tree downstairs into the bedroom, your photo is still beside it, and she climbs on there when we go to bed, hanging out with us. She is the one cat that doesn’t like sleeping on the bed at night, never does it.

Sully has taken to the harness really well. He loves being outside, and we’re pals outside. Inside he’s still Rebecca’s boy. Now he climbs onto her chest and purrs into her face. He adores her, demands love from her. And he still sprays around the house. The cattens sometimes play with him, they are getting to be friends, perhaps, the 3 of them. But he’s so much bigger. He is a good cat, and he’s off the medication. Drug-free. This morning, Rebecca discovered what might be an abscess in his mouth. Whatever it is, it’ll be expensive, right?

And there is a fourth cat. He/she/it is temporary, a kitten Rebecca found on Saturday. She couldn’t abandon him. You would’ve agreed. You were always so accepting of other cats inside (not outside). You put up with them, I don’t know why, but I’m glad. Maybe because you were always the one who got to stay. You were forever.

This ginger kitten, Rebecca will find a permanent home for him. It’s not like Sully, this is a fostering situation. He’s in Rebecca’s office and he is affectionate and playful. I’d forgotten how small kittens are. Daisy seems the most upset by this new arrival. Well, we want him to have a good home, but it’s not here. We’ll help him get taken care of, you know that.

10 days ago, close enough that I considered it a sign for today,  a cat climbed up a wire screen  and looked in my classroom window. A tiny kitten. I thought it was a bird at first. I went outside and thought it was trapped in a grate in the sidewalk. I called Rebecca, who was home with a friend – I asked her to come help, I couldn’t just leave it there, and guess what? She said yes, of course, she’d come right away.  And I’m grateful for that, because I was feeling ready to break down right there and then.

And then I blow it, leaning close to take a photo through the grate, and I scare the kitten, who squeezes through a gap and runs down the street. So fast, and I go after her, and she freezes for a moment, seeing a man on the other end of the street, looking back at me and I actually think I’m going to get this kitten back, that she’ll know instinctively I’m a good guy. But she doesn’t know any of that. She squeezes under a construction fence and is gone.

Does she know where’s she’s going? I don’t know. I check the grate and street two more times in the afternoon, calling for her. No sign. So either she miraculously had a family of people or cats to go to or she’s dead, right? And I cried about that, and I prayed about it too. And I felt like an idiot for praying, even though my faith was solid with you.

So good luck to that kitten. And good luck to the kitten (older but still just 4/5 months old, we think) in the office. Good luck to cats. God bless cats, right?

Maisy is still here with me. Looking out the window. Ears pricking at the squeak of my chair.

So we come to you. It’s been an easier year. A better one, in terms of feeling sad about what happened, about how you suffered. Just a couple of lost nights, I think, unable to sleep. And I’m allowed to cry today.

I’ll tell you what I think about the most, it’s when you were outside and it was freezing,  you were huddled in the bush and I was trying to get you back inside. tempting you with all kinds of food that you couldn’t eat. And you finally came to me and I still think you were doing me a final favour. And I know if I hadn’t brought you back inside that night, you would’ve stayed outside to die, because you wanted it to be over, and instead we tortured you for 3 days at the hospital.

Maisy’s watching. She doesn’t like it when I’m. I can feel it in my hands.

When is it enough? Have I not let go of you? I think maybe that’s all bullshit, that I will always grieve for you. And I can love these cats alive in our house at the same time.

I looked on the cat rescue website recently where we found you, where I saw that terrible, fantastic photo of you 9 years ago. Your memorial message is still there but all the photos are gone, broken files. I was glad to read the message. They’re still active, of course, rescue places rarely shut down due to lack of demand.

I still miss you. I will always miss you. And I’ve thought about how content you were, often how safe you felt outside, snoozing in the garden. There’s a lot I’m sorry about, that I wished I’d known better, smurf, that I’d do differently. But I loved you so much and I…I think I was a good friend to you. And so was Rebecca.

It’s been a hard year. Maybe this will always be a hard month, because this is when we found you and lost you.

And this blog is just for you. I have nothing to say except how I feel about today. I will miss you at Halloween, and Thanksgiving. I will miss you in the snow and in the spring. I miss you when I wash the car or work outside.

I’m out of time, you know the rule. I’ll go for our walk, now. I love you and miss you. I’ll walk and remember you well in my heart, supreme bonker, killer, thief, monster, sweet boy.

 

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