VI: To My Best Pet

 
The first time I met you, old, large, with beautiful grey and white fur, green eyes and a silently dangerous vibe, I have to admit that I am really scared of you. My mom kept telling me that you may look fearsome but you are a really nice guy. I did not believe it at first until my girlfriend met you and you went near her. Not only you liked the touches she gave you, you loved every one of them.

I already have my own baby cat in Vienna, but you, Ian the Cat… you are a different kind of tom cat. You are a gentle angel.

Since I became really close to you, I bring you out of your cage way often. I do not care that your fur can cause me an allergic reaction or even a mild asthma attack, as long as I am able to pet you, hug you or just pinch your fat cheeks. We even get to watch a lot of TV series together, eat together (my usual human food for me, you with your cat pellets or the occasional Whiskas meat), and drink together (coffee for me, milk for you).

I ran or walk, you follow, which is insane because you are the only cat I have that does that. And no matter what happened, as long as I call your name or even just say hi, you respond with meow. You know your name. You are my Ian the Cat.

Last Wednesday you got sick. You started not eating at all, you even ignore the water I gave you. Although you keep responding with my hellos, you looked really weak. I asked my parents to make time for your checkup, they told me they will, that they gave you medicine and water, and that you will be fine.

But it didn’t become fine. At 7:47am, Friday morning, you said your final meow and you passed away.

Gloom, guilt, anger, all rolled into one moment. I knew you are really old, but I knew I could have saved you. If only I did not go to work and just be there for you, maybe there would be a way for you to live more. But… it’s too late for that now.

Thanks to my girlfriend whom I spent time with on Friday night and for the lifting words from my brother, I am feeling much better now. And I should feel much better, although I know you are never coming back. I should just deal with your loss and take greater care for the other cats you loved—your love, Vienna, and your children, Float and Root.

Speaking of Root, he really looks and acts like you, only with orange and white fur instead of your grey and white. Somehow it makes me happy having him, but I know he will never fill the hole you left in my heart. You are my best cat I have ever had.

 
I am very thankful for the few human years I had with you, for all the quality time we had together, for teaching me a lot of lessons about responsibility and love for animals. Thank you, Ian the Cat. Thank you.

Good night forever, but you will never be forgotten. I love you and I will miss you so much.

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The Deranged Writer

The Deranged Writer deals with interactive designs by day and fiction-infused realities by night. Or maybe all day. And he loves talking in the third person.

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