Farewell Little Friend

It has been 8 weeks and it is time to admit it…T.J. (my cat) is gone.  16 years together and it didn’t end the way I wanted it to. 

T.J. became an outside cat a year or so ago after living his whole life inside.  There is only so much one person can take and cleaning up after kids all day left nothing for the cat.  I couldn’t do the laundry anymore and have litter stuck to my feet.  He had to go outside.  For a year or more, probably closer to two, he lived in the garage.  He would go out in the morning and would come home at night, until a few days before the baby was born.  She was born on a Thursday.  The last time we saw him was Tuesday.  He left in the morning and never came home that night. 

I always envisioned his death would be sad – after all, until I had Owen, for 10 years he was my baby.  He slept with me EVERY night (not just on the bed, but snuggled up to me as close as he could get).  He was a little more like a dog than a cat.  He would come when I called him, he loved to play, and he let me know when he wanted something.  He was everything to me; but as much as I swore it wouldn’t happen, having kids put him lower on the list.  (well having kids and the fact that he peed on the outside of his box as much as he did on the inside and that is enough to drive a person insane)

He drove me nuts but I still loved him.  He was getting old and especially went downhill after his cat died last year.  He was deaf and his kidneys were starting to fail, in fact, I took him to the vet for a check-up the week before he disappeared.  He would often be found wandering around outside with no destination and no where to go.  I had thought about putting him down to make sure nothing bad happened.

But I didn’t get to say good-bye and I didn’t get to decide to put him down and make sure he was safe.  As much as he drove me crazy, I wanted to make sure he was safe.  Now, I will always wonder.  I dream he comes back all the time and I still look for him when I drive down the street.  I just wanted things to end a little differently.  I miss him and wish I could have said good-bye.  If I could have, it would have been something like this:

Dear T.J.,

When I got you for Christmas 16 years ago, I was so happy.  You were so little and so full of life.  You loved to play and cuddle and I loved you so much.  Everyone that met you loved you and thought you were the cutest cat.  You were always up to something and caused me my fair share of bills, like the eye infections you had for the first year of your life (I really think you were allergic to those other two cats we lived with), or the time you fell into a pot of boiling water, or the time we woke up and you had a puncture wound on your chin (the vet probably still believes you got in a fight with an animal, still not sure how that animal would have broken into the apartment).  I loved taking you places in the car like a dog and I loved that you would meow at me the minute I walked in the door and wait for me to pick you up to say hello. I am still not sure why you always hated little kids (and would bite them any chance you got) or why you hated your back to be pet. 

Before you go, I want to tell you I am sorry.  I am sorry that I had to close you out of the room after Owen was born.  I am sorry that I had to move you to the garage to live.  I am sorry that you probably felt that I didn’t love you anymore.  I did love you.  I still love you.  You will always have a special place in my heart. 

I am sorry that I didn’t get to take care of you at the end.  I hope you didn’t suffer.  I hope you weren’t scared.  I hope you weren’t looking for me and wondering where I was.  I would have come if I could have.  I hope you know that. 

I h0pe you are in a better place and can jump and play again.  You were my little pal I will forever love you.

me.