Having been lurking, occasionally commenting, and on the rarest of times writing diaries (a grand total of 2) here on DKos, I know that there's a large contingent of fellow animal lovers around. It seemed like this might be a good place for me to share some memories and deal with some grief, so I hope that you will indulge me.
Yesterday, I lost one of my best friends. His name was Eddie. He was somewhere around 16 years old (we never knew for certain how old he was). He was my cat, and one of the best you could probably ever ask for. I'm still in shock and don't know quite what to do. So I decided to write.
Eddie came to my family from our cousin when we lived in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. It was January 1997 and I was nearing the end of 8th grade. Eddie was at first adopted by my aunt, then went to live with my cousin (my aunt's daughter). When my cousin had a baby, though, she decided she couldn't keep Eddie. He was only about a year or so old at that point, and he still had plenty of mischief in him. With a newborn around, she just didn't want to risk that he'd do something that she'd regret.
My younger brother and I had loved Eddie for quite a long time at that point. We always enjoyed going to my cousin's and playing with him. He had so much energy, it was a change from our cat who had recently passed away, Mimi. That and Mimi had always been more of "Mom's cat," since Mom had rescued her from a blizzard a few years before I was born. She didn't like playing, she didn't like kids for the most part, and she was incredibly cranky. We loved her, of course, like only a pet-loving family can, but Eddie was different.
That and Eddie had a heart string-pulling story to boot. Eddie had spent most of the first year of his life in a cage at the animal shelter in Ironwood, MI. No one had wanted to adopt him. Finally, one family did adopt him, only to bring him back a few days later because they discovered he was a he, not a she. When my aunt was looking for a cat to adopt, Eddie was the only one to get her attention. He'd been put on the very bottom row of cages, and had reached out his little paw and tugged at my aunts shoes. She was hooked and brought him home.
Unfortunately for my aunt, Eddie was a bit too much for her to handle. She had some medical problems and just couldn't keep up. But given what she knew of Eddie's experience at the shelter, she knew she couldn't take him back. So my cousin agreed to take him in. When my cousin's daughter was born, and my cousin said she couldn't keep Eddie any more, we knew we had to take him in.
Despite spending so much time isolated in the shelter, Eddie had perhaps the sweetest disposition I've ever seen in a cat. Not once in his 16 or so years did he ever bite or scratch anyone (though various pieces of furniture were not so fortunate). Not once. He loved nothing more than to rough house with our dog, Tootsie, despite the fact that she was about 5 times his size. Both of them knew when enough was enough; at first, we were always afraid they'd hurt one another, Tootsie given her size and Eddie with claws and teeth. But they never did.
As he got older, and especially after Tootsie passed away in 2005, Eddie settled down and made himself king of the roost now that there was no more competition. I always teased my mother that he had her trained like she was the pet. Every morning Eddie would wake Mom up around 6 A.M. for food. If Eddie sat by the sink in the bathroom, it was Mom's obligation to plug the sink and fill it with cold water so Eddie could drink from there (the water bowl in the kitchen clearly being an inferior form of hydration). Despite all this, though, it was clear Eddie loved Mom and vice versa.
In a lot of ways, though, Eddie was very much my baby boy. I was the only one who was allowed to hold him for any extended period of time. He had a particular way that he liked to lay in my arms, with his head tucked into the crook of my left arm. I was also the only one who could trim his nails or, on occasion, give him a bath when he REALLY needed it. And while I've been away at law school since 2008, Mom always made sure to point out that it was my bed where Eddie slept while awaiting my return. Coming home for the summer or for a break, I was invariably greeted with a cat-hair covered bed and a cat who insisted on staying as close to me as possible for at least the first week, including at night. Only once he was satisfied that I wasn't going anywhere for a while would he start sleeping elsewhere.
Being 600 miles from home, I'm constantly worried that something bad is going to happen and there's no way I'll be able to get home. Until yesterday, there had been some bad things that happened while I was away, but nothing that I would term catastrophic. My luck finally ran out.
Saturday night, I'd received an e-mail from my mom giving an update on how things were going. She mentioned that Eddie had been sick and that she'd taken him to the vet, but that he had started drinking water on his own again and seemed to be doing a bit better. I e-mailed her back that I'd call her Sunday evening to check in.
Around 10:00 last night, I called. Mom seemed a bit out of sorts from the sound of her voice. I figured she was just tired, as she works a fair amount and often goes to bed very early by my standards. After chatting about various bits of family news, I asked her how Eddie was doing since she'd mentioned in her e-mail he'd been sick. She hesitated.
I think I knew what was coming then, but didn't want to acknowledge it. "He was sick, until this afternoon. I don't know how to tell you this, hon, but...he passed away a few hours ago."
After that, I don't really remember how the conversation went. I ended up spending the evening with a friend, trying to comfort myself. Every time I'm alone, though, I think of my friend. I think about how I wasn't there, but how he at least had Mom there at the very end. I also thought about the poem of the Rainbow Bridge.
And I cried. And I still am crying.
I personally know some people who, when a pet dies, say, "It's just an animal." I know they'll never understand. Eddie was more than just an animal, more than just a pet. Eddie was my friend, and even though we couldn't talk like I do with my other friends, I know that we understood each other. Eddie was there for me through tough times. Starting high school. When I stopped talking to my father. An emotional breakdown. When I came out. When I went back to college. No matter what, all there was was unconditional love, a sandpaper tongue, and no judgment.
And I know that so many of you have similar experiences. That's why I knew you'd understand and why I could share with all of you. If you could all take just a moment and give a thought to Eddie and to my grieving family, I would deeply appreciate it. Thanks, and good night.
Eddie, 199? - Feb. 13, 2011
Updated by Silvan Elf at Tue Feb 15, 2011, 05:49:43 PM
Thank you all for your kind words and thoughts. I am truly grateful.