An Homage

Him Alright

This week has been a completely trash-ass week. There are three cats in this household: Thing 1, Thing 2 and Thing 3 as they are lovingly referred to as we round them up for bedtime to make sure no one is locked in a closet or stuck behind a couch.

Thing 1 and 2 are brothers from the same greasy cardboard box behind a machine shop in 2009. Sixteen years is a long time to have a brother, and a long time to have cats, or at least it seems that way. Thing 2 has been sick with kidney problems and arthritis for a few months now. He doesn't he much, he doesn't drink anything, and he just sort of lays around anymore. Here I am talking about him like he's still around. 

Wednesday, January 15th, it was time to take Thing 2 for his final ride. Ala Fight Club: In death, a member of Project Mayhem has a name. His name was Poe. He was a charming and cuddly black cat with a proper gentleman's ascot.

Needless to say, it was a shitty day. I've never had to euthanize a pet before and, I gotta tell ya, it ain't fucking fun. Weirdest thing about all of it was the final moment. I was big-boy boo-hooing the entire time and after the doctor said he was gone, I asked if there was a way we could close his eyes. You see, I didn't know that cats don't close their eyes when they die. 

I began laughing at that point. You see, Poe got his name because as a tiny blue-eyed kitten, he would always sleep with an eye open like the guy in Edgar Allen Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart". It was really fitting that he left the world the same way he came into it.

I miss him. There was a game we'd always play (not necessarily on purpose) around the house where a pile of laundry would be somewhere, or one of One's toys, a hat, anything really. The game was "is that a cat?" and most of the time we would be suspicious it was Black Cat finding some place to relax and recharge away from the other two.

He was my buddy. He was my scarf when it wound up getting to the cold months, he was my constant snuggle-buddy in bed and he would routinely try and crawl next to, underneath of, or on top of me if I was stationary (sometimes even when I wasn't). He loved to be held, he loved strings and would capture them from all over the house in order to show his dominance to the String Lord as he laid atop the pile of his vanquished foes. He liked rolling around in the bathtub and ear fritches; he loved get spun around in circles on tiled floor until he couldn't walk straight -- yes really, he enjoyed it and would always bug me in the kitchen to twirl him.

Rest in peace little buddy. Him alright now. My neck will always be a little colder without you here.