March 15, 2003
I decided to make a blog-type thing for a few various reasons. The first would be that sometimes I need to rant and no one is around to listen. Another reason would be because people seem to like knowing what the real life author is all about, and since I don't always have time for the stories (gomennasai) I thought this might be a good way to express my feelings outside of the stories.
I get very lonely. Right now I'm home by myself. I used to love being home by myself. February 11th my baby kitty died. Now being home alone isn't quite the same. I wander the house to go pick the kitty up and he isn't there. He used to keep me company. I'm not much of a people person, but at the same time I get lonely easily. So he was the perfect companion.
He was a little over 11 years old. A few months ago we found out he had cancer. I'm not sure if they truly couldn't help him or if we didn't have the money, but either way he was going to die. We started spending a lot of time with him and doing things for him. The tumor was on his mouth so he had a hard time eating. Eventually he wouldn't even eat gravy. He used to be a fat cat, but by the time we finally took him to the vet and had him put to sleep he was just skin and bones.
He only had one eye and he was blind, so he always stayed indoors but he loved being outdoors. So when he got sick we started taking him for walks. It was a large adjustment at first. There's a large pool in our backyard, and lots of trees. We never let him outside because he could try and climb up and fall over the fence where a dog is, or he could fall in the pool (which he'd done a few times in his life already). The first time we took him for a walk he fell in the pool. He started walking around recklessly and fell right in. I couldn't catch him because I was holding a camera, but my brother was able to get him fast enough that he hardly got wet. He hated baths and such, but he never actually seemed to mind being wet. He just didn't like getting wet. I've had a lot of cats and I can positively say not all cats mind being wet. We've had cats sit on the roof in the rain before.
Whiskers was always a smart cat. As I walked with him more and more he started to learn the backyard. I just had to make sure he didn't try to climb up any trees where we can't get to him, and that he didn't fall in the pool. Our outside cat was actually starting to be good to him too. Before if he went outside she'd jump on him, and if she went inside he'd chase her. But she started following him around with us, sitting and watching. Sometimes he was being annoying and I expected her to smack him but she didn't. She might have been able to sense that he was dying. I always think of her as a stupid cat, but she's a very loyal cat. I was very glad she stopped picking on him when he got sick.
I knew his thought process pretty well. It's hard to explain, but when you spend so much time with a cat you just know what they'll like and won't like. I always knew which packets of food he'd probably eat, and what he'd be excited by. He learned the backyard so well that he even knew where the pool was. He was always very smart. After awhile I'd go and sit in a chair next to the broken brick fence and watch him walk around the yard. He hardly needed to be watched. He didn't really try to climb up trees and he wasn't falling in the pool anymore. But he was losing energy fast. When we took him for walks before he used to be all over everything. He loved walks. He started lying down in the middle of walks though. I knew he was weak when he didn't have the energy to keep looking around the yard anymore. He'd gotten used to the backyard so I took him to the next exciting place, somewhere he'd never been before.
I let him out in the front yard a few times. Our street isn't a busy one so it wasn't very dangerous. As long as I made sure I could always get to him he'd be safe. He was extremely excited about the front yard. We had another lawn he hadn't been on, as well as plants and a few more trees. When mom was gone once I let him outside and we walked down the street. He walked a few houses over to sniff some flowers. That's probably the furthest he'd ever gone from our house in his life. Whenever a car went by I picked him up to make sure he'd didn't panic or try to run out in the street.
I really started to feel bad for not doing these things with him sooner. I had always thought that letting him out for long walks was risky because of our pool. But he learned where the pool was. He even learned how to get up on the swinging chair and sat with me once. Not even the cats who can see have figured out that chair yet. He was weak and his tumor was huge. Since it was on his cheek he was constantly drooling. Eventually he couldn't even keep his tongue in his mouth anymore. Sometimes his tumor started to bleed. I really hated seeing him dying so slowly.
I kept trying to drop hints to my mom that he wasn't happy. He couldn't clean himself anymore. I think he was losing his sense of smell. He was having trouble even walking in a straight line. He couldn't eat his food. He even had trouble drinking his water. In a last ditch effort I went to a pet store and bought some special gravy, pretty sure he wouldn't eat it either. I didn't want to keep him alive because no one wanted to feel guilty about putting him to sleep. That wasn't a good reason to force him to keep suffering. For a long time it was hard because I seemed to be the only one willing to let go of him.
Finally my mom came around. She told my brother we were going to put him to sleep and he said his goodbyes to the kitty. I didn't even realize it at that point. I knew he was going soon, but I didn't know when I came home from school that day we'd be heading to the vet's in about twenty minutes. My mom told me, and I sat with him on my lap. We got him one of our old blankets and wrapped him up. I knew I wanted to go with him. He hated strangers, and even before he was sick he always wanted to be in the same room with us. When he got sick he spent more and more time with us, for comfort I'm sure.
Before he always hated going in the car or to the vet's. He didn't struggle at all. He actually wanted to poke around in the car. I'm pretty sure he was done with his life and ready to go. He was calm the entire time, the only time he was a bit upset was when a little girl started petting him. He didn't like strangers. We took him in to be put to sleep and stayed with him, petting him. It was really hard to watch him die, but I staying in there for him, not for me. They let us stay with the body as long at we wanted. It was so hard, looking at him and knowing he wasn't going to get back up. It can still make me cry thinking about it. There were a few times I just wanted to take him back home with me because I didn't want him to die. I knew I couldn't though. He would just die from slowly starving to death then. I'm so glad he didn't struggle. If he had still been fighting to live I would have felt horrible about myself.
When we went home my mom and I hugged. She said that we always had to be the strong ones. Even though it was hard I couldn't imagine being my brother and not going with the kitty. I would have hated myself if I let him die in the vet's alone.
I tried holding our outside cat but she's nothing like him. She's a good cat, but she and he were always opposites. The first few days after he was gone were the most difficult. I kept doing things keeping him in mind, as I had done naturally for most my life. Now he wasn't there anymore, and I kept asking myself why I was putting things in places where he wouldn't jump on them, or making sure there was nothing he might choke on or have a problem with. I'd been dreading the day when I would go to look for him, forgetting for a split second that he wasn't there. I knew it would happen, and it did. When my mom washed my bedsheets I almost told her, "Why are you bothering? Kitty will just get them dirty again." And when I was left home alone for the first time she had almost told me that it was "Just you and the little dude". I was home alone almost all day not long after he died, and it was horrible. It was the first time I'd truly been home alone in over 11 years.
Even now being alone I'll start to wander around the house. I know he isn't there to pick up. I just look for him to hold anyway. I'm used to him being there, and I've been thinking about all the things that have happened over the years. Until our film is developed I only have one picture to remember him by.


When we first found him one of his eyes was sticking about an inch out of its socket. It wasn't a pretty sight. His eye couldn't be saved, and the other went blind because of an infection. We took him inside because he was blind and sick. Those first weeks were something new. We sat him by his litter box and food bowl, that used to be right outside my room. He would walk with his shoulder pressed against the wall and move around the house. If he moved to far away from a wall and got lost he'd sit down and start meowing, then we'd put him by his little station again to start over. He learned the entire house this way. One of my aunts didn't even believe he was blind he got around so well.
When he was young he was still a wild cat. He bit me very roughly once, enough that it left a scar. I probably deserved it. Little kids are never very good with animals. I needed him so much when I was little though. I hated my family. I was abused, and very suicidal. He always ended up stopping me.
One of the reasons I believe in God is because of my kitty. He showed up when I needed him most. My dad was allergic to cats and I needed one to be with me all the time. I had no one else I trusted but my cats. How else would I have gotten a cat inside unless he was blinded? We never knew exactly how he ended up blinded, what happened to him exactly. He came in and at every now and then, when I was at my worst, he would do something completely unlike him. I can clearly remember waking up from a dream crying and he was sitting on the edge of my bed. I don't know why he happened to be there that night. He never slept with me. But he just happened to be there.
Once I was left home alone so I went and got a butcher knife out of the kitchen. I was very much thinking about ending everything right there. I held it up to my chest and was taking a deep breath, and he walked by my room. I started thinking twice. They were completely ridiculous thoughts in a way, but it stopped me.
He was a funny cat too. When he was younger he sat on window sills a lot, just looking out at the world. I walked out into the backyard one time and he was sitting on my brother's window (which isn't far from the back door). Apparently the screen couldn't handle his weight. It popped off the window and he fell outside, looking completely dazed and confused. Luckily I had just walked out there and was able to pick him up before anything happened to him. We had a lot more cats back then, and the cats didn't like him. It was probably a pecking order type of thing.
He knew he wasn't allowed in my parent's room, but every now and then he tried to sneak in anyway. He didn't realize my dad was sleeping on the bed once, and he jumped up on top of him. My dad woke up screaming, and then the cat shrieked, and then he darted out of the room like there was no tomorrow. He didn't try to sneak back into there room much after that.
When he became sick he started sitting on our laps a lot more. It almost felt like he was going for a world record. He would sit and watch Excel Saga with me (he seemed to like the things I liked. I suppose he grew up with me, so it was an acquired taste for him). We watched a few episodes one time then I turned it off so I could go take a shower. I picked him up and was going to put him on the other chair, but when I tried to stand my legs didn't respond at all! He'd been sitting on me so long that both my legs had gone completely asleep and I hadn't even noticed. I toppled over on my back, still holding him, and tried again to get up. He probably thought I was on drugs or something. I finally got him to the other chair, and managed to walk across the house despite barely being able to feel my legs. I'm just happy that everyone had left the room before that happened.
Everyday things were nice too. Whenever I saw him I'd act surprised, as if I'd just found a long lost treasure. Quite often walking in my room and seeing him on my bed would bring out a "*GASP* Aren't you the cutest kitty ever?!" He probably didn't even know his own name. I always called him "Baby Kitty", mom called him "Little Dude", my brother called him "Fatso"... For some reason I always told him "We love you". After awhile it was strange to say "I love you" to him, it was always "we". I'm not quite sure why. When he got sick I kept this up. He didn't understand what we were saying, all he cared about were the vocalics. I couldn't say "Aren't you the cutest kitty ever?" and sound bored. He was covered in blood and mud, his face was swollen and he was constantly drooling, but up until the moment he died I'm sure he thought he was the most adorable kitty in the universe.
I miss him a lot. I'm sure I'll always miss him. He was a huge part of my life, and one of the reasons I hate it so much when people say that cats aren't loyal, or that pets don't have feelings. He came from nowhere when I needed him most. Now that I'm older and I have to move on with my life, he's left again. Animals make sacrifices greater than humans all the time. I believe they are here for us. We're meant to eat animals, and so it isn't wrong to kill for food. Animals teach children a type of responsibility and compassion that can't be taught in a classroom, and I believe the way a person treats their animals says a lot about them.
The animal clinic sent us a nice card awhile after our kitty died. They were very understanding throughout the entire thing. My mom told me my aunt had said that when she took one of her cats to be put to sleep they hadn't sent her a card. The first thing I asked was if she really cared about the cat, and my mom answered "Probably not". I see how my cousins treat their pets and I know they don't care a whole lot. Often they'll have a pet one day and we'll never see it again. It's better that way really. I've had to save their own pets from them before. They fool around like little children despite being teenagers, and tried to feed one of their little puppies chocolate chips cookies. Pretty much poison for a dog. I had to go and take all the cookies from them. I think that's the only time I ever saw that puppy.
It saddens me a lot to think of how many people probably treat their pets like that. My kitty meant a lot to me. If someone had hurt him I'd much sooner throw them out of my house than him. He was blind and needed us, if we had given him up for adoption it's quite likely he would have died 11 years ago by being put to sleep. Not many people like to take care of older, handicapped cats, ne? But he was the best cat I'd ever had and I would have never left him to fend for himself. Yes, it could be a pain to take care of him. He was picky with his food, had a bad stomach and it wasn't uncommon for him to throw up, and he didn't always know what was best for him. I certainly didn't care for the sweet smell of cat puke in the morning. But he was worth it. It was nice to have him there. He was like having a small child around. Troublesome but entirely worth it in the end.
It's annoying to see other people take advantage of their pets. Every time I did something with him in mind and realized I didn't have to do it anymore, I'd always think "But I'd rather do it and have him here than not have to do it and not have him".
Going to my cousin's house and seeing how they've treated their animals as they've grown and how they've ended up in life thus far, it makes me feel like there's a connection. They've made a lot of irresponsible choices, and spend a lot of time trying to fit in or be the center of attention. The older girl is depending on her band to make it. She's doing horrible in school, and she can't become a dancer like she planned anymore because she's already hurt her back. The younger is also doing horrible in school and doesn't seem to have very good influences. They aren't evil people. They're just doing about as well as their pets are. They couldn't be responsible with their pets and now they can't be responsible with their own lives.
I know I've ranted a lot about this. Kitty meant a lot to me. Cats have always been a large part of my life. In the future I hope to adopt another blind cat. Not because I think it'll replace him, nothing could ever replace him. But I know if we hadn't decided to keep Whiskers before he probably would have been put to sleep. I've lived my entire life caring for a blind cat. I'm used to it. And I feel like I should keep using my experience to take care of other blind cats. Their handicap wouldn't be anything new to me, and I wouldn't mind having kittens around the house again. The person I'm in love with is allergic to cats just like my dad is though, so I suppose we'll see in the future.

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