Tuesday, 04.27.10 - 11:33 am.
The doorbell ringing at 6 am is not good. My mom knocked on my bedroom door and told me that my cat was dead. The male cat, Mister. His body was like a half a block away from the house, on the sidewalk. A pack of stray dogs attacked him. The neighborhood guard thought the dogs were playing with a garbage bag.
After the news, I laid in my bed with my female cat, Nena, while somebody else retrieved the body. I refused to do it. I was trying to process it. I always feared this; we try to keep the cats indoors but you know, they are cats. I wonder if Nena understood...not understood but rather, say, sensed something was wrong. She meowed at me several times and never left my side. She let me hold her for a long time, which is very rare. I didn't cry much, except when I was told the garbage bag thing. However, I would appreciate if right now I had a friend to hold me and let me cry on her/his shoulders. I walked to work in tears.
I did see his body before I came to work. At least he's in one piece. There are blood stains on his fur, where he was bitten but they are mostly big dots. He was buried in the garden, like a feet away from my dog Frog's and the parrot's spots. He'd been dead for one or two hours by the time he was found by my next-door neighbor. We're lucky the garbage truck didn't find him first. I wish I had been able to be present for his burial, and for Nephew #2 (14 years old) to be present, too. I'll have to explain him when he comes back from school.
I've lost three of my dearest friends (sorry, a pet is a friend to me), one each year since 2008. I'm thankful that neither Frog or the parrot went away under violent circumstances. As for Mister, I want to think that the cruelty didn't last long and he didn't suffer much...oh, the irony: I remember how he'd "play" with small animals he hunted. But that's Nature, I don't think the idea of karma fits in this situation. And I'm thankful that my beautiful Himalayan cat was not killed by humans or simply stolen.
I just discovered...or maybe I'm just confirming: I get physically exhausted when I'm sad. I'm so tired right now, and I want to cry. I can't wait to go home, only 30 minutes for that. Also, I'm re-living Frog's loss. Or maybe I'm just thinking...Joseph wasn't there for me when she passed away, and right now I'm very angry at him for leaving me alone to mourn. Fuck you, Joseph. Fuck you. You knew how important she was for me and you weren't there when I lost her.
Rest in peace, Mister. You were a fun, loving member of our family, and I'm glad we got to give you a good life for over four years. Thank you.
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