Now Playing: La LsLa Bonita by Madonna
A few months ago my calico cat Cally (not sure how mom spelled it) died. She had a cancer we didn't know about and a tumor formed in her brain. It eat through her nazel cavity and basicly...her brain exploded, litterally due to built up pressure.
We kept her down in the basement, which was the cats playarea. She was always like a kitten, but she was blind. We'd gotten her as a baby 3 weeks old. The cops found her running around in circles in the street in the rain. We lived in Japan at the time and my mother worked as a human person.
When the cops brought her to us, mom adopted her. But the kitten had been abused and beaten really bad. She couldn't walk for weeks, and she hardly ate anything. But what the worst part was- the person that had beat her had pushed her eyes all the way into her head or ripped them out. The doctors couldn't tell us for sure. They operated, said it was no good and sewed her eyes shut.
I was afraid of her at first. Mother wouldn't let anyone near her because she was to small and I personally didn't take to her well. The only cat I never connected with right off. But once I got used to her and over my fear of her blindness, we got along great and as she got older I enjoyed playing with her.
My father was rather mean to her most of the time and as I take after my dad in most things, I wasn't the kindest person to her either. I prefered my other cats. Cally liked to bite and while I've been bitten by cats before, I've never known one to bite as hard as her. I felt bad about being mean to her and would try very hard as I got old to not be. I would show her I loved her and I think that she loved me.
I was planning on moving out and taking her with me. Mom gave her to me, even though, dispite everything, Cally liked dad best. Cats pick their owners not the other way around. Funny really, but she felt safe with him.
I remember coming home from work and I'd planned to give all three cats a bath that day, brush them out, and feed them some treats and canned food. Cally liked tunafish oil poored over her dry food vs. canned food. So I got it ready. I took it down to her and was upset that she wouldn't eat it. So I left it down there for her.
She'd been spending more and more time in her cat bed. We didn't think much of it, because she'd always done that. Active at night, sleep all day. She didn't play with the other cats to often and she was getting old. But when she wouldn't get up to play at all, and wouldn't use the litter box I started to scolled her. Telling her to stop being lazy. She just cuddled up to me and purred. She was becoming so loving in her final days. I found myself spending more time with her then normal, being nicer, telling her I loved her.
Well, when I came home and took the food down, I told her I loved her out of the blue, pet her, and said I'd be back later to give her a bath and all. She smiled and purred. I didn't get to give them the bath. My whole afternoon was ruined. I can't remember why, I think I got called back into work as soon as I'd gotten home from it.
So I decided to wait and do the baths the next day. Yeah I was at work, because my brother called me. Telling me they'd found her downstairs covered in blood. Mother took her to the vet and an hour later I got a call from her. My cat was dead. There had been nothing anyone could do. And nothing that could have been done to prevent it.
I felt guilty. Because I'd planned to spend some really quaility time with her. I'd promised her and then she died. I didn't even get to say goodbye. But that's the way life is. Hardly ever do we get to say goodbye. I know I've lost everything without ever saying goodbye.
Sometimes though, sometimes I sence something, I don't always realize/reconize it but I since death's hand nearby. I did with her. It's the reason I was suddenly feeling so connected to her. I had wondered about that at the time, then when she died, I knew what I'd felt. If I'm aware of this, sometimes I get to say "I love you" or "Goodnight sweetone" one last time.
Now, my other two cats are in the hospital with fevers and colds. One of them is running 103 and it's not coming down. This is the second night they've been there. Ones 12 years old, the other only 3. I think one of them will die tonight. I can feel it. If that happens, I don't know what to do. I don't know if I should cry. I don't know if I can cry. I have tears, but, it hurts to let them fall. It hurts a lot. My heart is so frail right now. I'm not ready to brake it just yet. Not today....
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