This post is going to be a bit of a downer, sorry. In my last post I spoke about how things were very overwhelming, and how things are just piling up and more dramas are appearing out of the blue which jolts me a bit more and today just confirmed all this. Today my cat, who I've had since I was four years old, was put down (that's always a cheery conversation starter). So, obviously I'm sad, but I didn't cry and my mum even was like "I thought you'd be more upset than this," but just because I don't necessarily show I'm affected by something, doesn't mean that I'm heartless. I love my cat and it was terrible saying goodbye to her this morning, because she had no clue what was going to happen to her and I felt like I was betraying her and sending her off to her death. I think I feel more guilty than anything else, like I've let her down. So, instead of crying, instead of moping around, I'm going to use this post as a platform to write a sort of eulogy. It's hardly going to be profound, but it's something to acknowledge her life, even though anyone who is reading this has never met her.
In loving memory:
The reason why I got a cat in the first place was because my nonna believed that every child should have a pet. Up until then, I had a pet rock that was painted and had eyes stuck on it. I had always wanted a pet, either a cat or dog, someone to explore the garden with me. And I still remember the day I was visiting my nonna and nonno and they gave me this kitten that was so tiny, even to a four year old. Mum wasn't happy about it, because she claimed to not being an animal person, but she agreed and very soon, she really loved our cat.
When coming up with a name, I remember I couldn't get to sleep that night, and dad had finished reading my bed time story, so we began brainstorming ideas. Dad said "what about Fifi?" and I was like "No! That's a dogs name" and then I said "It has to be a biscuity sounding name," which I have no idea what that means. I think it's because my cousin at the time had a cat called Polly and my brain thought: Polly= "Polly want a cracker"= biscuit. So I wanted a name that ended with a Y sound. And unfortunately I came up with an inappropriate name for my cat, but I didn't know it was inappropriate at the time and was confused why my dad never called her by her name. He tried to make me change my mind, but I was just as stubborn then as I am now.
I can't go into every story about her, but here a just a few throughout the years:
-In my childhood she would always be my familiar when I would pretend to be a viking-witch-healer and we would go around the garden together collecting weeds that I would then chop up and turn into muddy concoctions.
-When I was a bit older, she would lie in the middle of the lawn while my dad and I would play badminton in summer and she would watch us play: she was my mascot.
-In high school I would go out in the garden on nice days and would write poetry while patting her or I would read to her. I remember the time when I had to read 'Animal Farm' for English and she was sitting on my lap while I was reading out loud to her, and she scratched me! That's how clever she was.
Her favourite thing to do was sleep in the sun. Every time I would come home from school, she would greet me in the driveway by brushing against my legs. Like owner, like pet, she had a massive appetite, and would always stand by the door and meow until she got food, which I'd give her even when it wasn't her dinner time. She was a constant in my life for over sixteen years, and even when she was older and looking a bit like Old Tom, she still had personality. Last night I was eating an orange and afterwards when I was giving her a pat, she licked my fingers and it was hilarious how she jumped back because she didn't like the taste of orange. She only liked eating tuna.
I think the hardest part of having someone gone is that you notice how much presence they had. For a cat, she seemed to fill up all of the space in the garden, so now when I look out the window, my backyard seems empty.
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| A picture I drew of her when I was four, which I have framed on my desk |
The reason why I got a cat in the first place was because my nonna believed that every child should have a pet. Up until then, I had a pet rock that was painted and had eyes stuck on it. I had always wanted a pet, either a cat or dog, someone to explore the garden with me. And I still remember the day I was visiting my nonna and nonno and they gave me this kitten that was so tiny, even to a four year old. Mum wasn't happy about it, because she claimed to not being an animal person, but she agreed and very soon, she really loved our cat.
When coming up with a name, I remember I couldn't get to sleep that night, and dad had finished reading my bed time story, so we began brainstorming ideas. Dad said "what about Fifi?" and I was like "No! That's a dogs name" and then I said "It has to be a biscuity sounding name," which I have no idea what that means. I think it's because my cousin at the time had a cat called Polly and my brain thought: Polly= "Polly want a cracker"= biscuit. So I wanted a name that ended with a Y sound. And unfortunately I came up with an inappropriate name for my cat, but I didn't know it was inappropriate at the time and was confused why my dad never called her by her name. He tried to make me change my mind, but I was just as stubborn then as I am now.
I can't go into every story about her, but here a just a few throughout the years:
-In my childhood she would always be my familiar when I would pretend to be a viking-witch-healer and we would go around the garden together collecting weeds that I would then chop up and turn into muddy concoctions.
-When I was a bit older, she would lie in the middle of the lawn while my dad and I would play badminton in summer and she would watch us play: she was my mascot.
-In high school I would go out in the garden on nice days and would write poetry while patting her or I would read to her. I remember the time when I had to read 'Animal Farm' for English and she was sitting on my lap while I was reading out loud to her, and she scratched me! That's how clever she was.
Her favourite thing to do was sleep in the sun. Every time I would come home from school, she would greet me in the driveway by brushing against my legs. Like owner, like pet, she had a massive appetite, and would always stand by the door and meow until she got food, which I'd give her even when it wasn't her dinner time. She was a constant in my life for over sixteen years, and even when she was older and looking a bit like Old Tom, she still had personality. Last night I was eating an orange and afterwards when I was giving her a pat, she licked my fingers and it was hilarious how she jumped back because she didn't like the taste of orange. She only liked eating tuna.
I think the hardest part of having someone gone is that you notice how much presence they had. For a cat, she seemed to fill up all of the space in the garden, so now when I look out the window, my backyard seems empty.
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| This is my cat when she was a kitten- it's not the best quality photo, but believe me, she was the most beautiful cat. |
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