The ghost of an orange and white kitty is on my nightstand this Sunday. And for all the nights to come.
Not exactly, because that wasn’t one of Erasmus’ places to be in our bedroom. He preferred the “kitty chaperone” position. That would be the spot right smack dab in the middle of the bed.
For an essentially not very bright cat, he could be clever when it counted. From the middle, he could get scritched by both of us.
On the other hand, he couldn’t figure out that he could totally wrap me around his paw if he would just sit on my lap every once in a while. We didn’t just have to move four times, we had to open up a particular room in a particular house to make that work. And he would only get in my lap from the left and never the right. I wasn’t allowed to type with Rasi in my lap. Ask me if I cared. Ask me how many hours I could last without caring.
We love them, and they never let us go.
Rasi delivered pens. He was always so proud of himself. He acted like he was bringing us the biggest, most vicious mousie the world had ever seen. All for us. Of course, this meant that neither of us could EVER locate a pen when we really needed one. I would, we would give up every pen we might ever own for the rest of our lives to have him bring us just one more pen. Just one more.
But it’s not meant to be. Our sweet, sweet baby boy lost his battle with cancer. And we let him go while he was still having some good time, before his world became all pain.
Even though we had a vet come to the house to take care of him, Sophie is wandering around looking lost, looking for her daddy-cat in the places he used to be. She watched them carry him out the door, but she wants him back.
We do too.
For now, we both cry. We miss him. I keep expecting to see him at the foot of the bed, waiting for us to come to bed. Or on the table in the afternoon, catching the sun.
This is the sorrow of parting. At the end of the Lord of the Rings just before Bilbo and Frodo board the ship at the Grey Havens, as they are about to leave, Gandalf tells Sam, ” I will not say do not weep, for not all tears are an evil.”
They may not be an evil, but they hurt like bloody hell.
Rest in catnip, Erasmus. My sweet Rasi boy.
I’m so sorry for your loss. 🙁 Losing a pet is so very difficult. In my opinion, mortality is their only flaw. I hope you can find peace during this sad time.
Thank you so much for your kind words. Truly.
They always say that the tragedy is that our lives are so long-and that theirs are so damned short. One second they are kittens, the next they’re adults and then we blink and they’re gone.
But not from our hearts.
Marlene Harris recently posted..Not All Tears Are Evil
Aww..we lost our cat ten years ago..and I know exactly how you feel. Coming home at night is the worst. My thoughts are with you and your family.
kimba88 recently posted..The Sunday Post ~ sharing news and books~
Thank you so much Kimba. We have the whole family, so Eramus sister and his two daughters are still with us, but he leaves a very big hole. We’ve had all of them their whole lives, all 12 1/2 years. They’ve moved around the country with us and they are our babies.
I work at home so I just keep expecting to see him. And he’s not there. Except in my heart.
Marlene Harris recently posted..Not All Tears Are Evil
Rasi was blessed to have been loved so fiercely. I’m so sorry for your loss. The ache stays there for a while but it won’t be so horrible in a couple of weeks. Pamper and be kind to yourself. ((hugs))
Barbara recently posted..Sunday Post (1)
We humans are stupid in some ways. We know this will happen. And we do it over and over again, because the joy they bring us is worth the pain of parting.
Some of them touch us lightly, and some sink their claws into our hearts.
Marlene Harris recently posted..Not All Tears Are Evil
Well I read this and had a good cry. Rasi was a lucky cat. I have had several cats and one dog and I still mourn all of them. They may be gone but they are never forgotten.
Jo @ Mixed Book Bag recently posted..Stacking the Shelver, June 2, 2012
So very sorry, Marlene! Your Rasi, looks so much like our Felix that we had to send off two years ago. Age and ill health. We also chose to do it before he was suffering too much, too. Gave me a bit of a start because they could be twins. Felix was bitter, too, but it took me a while to quit looking for him and watching out for him. He was our son’s cat really and he never stopped missing him when he left for college. My husband swears Felix stopped by to knock over some little rock things he used to knock over in life, before he went on. It would be something Felix would do.
What’s really weird, I happened to go back and read the blog post I wrote after his passing two years ago. Not quite applicable to your situation, because you still have a cat: http://paulinebairdjones.blogspot.com/2010/09/closed-doors.html
Take care and big hugs!
Pauline Baird Jones recently posted..googlecd20eb13f78687f0
We tried, very briefly, to keep them out of the bedroom. It didn’t work. They either learned to stay in at the right time, or played “pawsies” under the door. And LaZorra has a very loud “bitch, bitch, bitch” caterwaul that is difficult to resist. Or sleep through.
Marlene Harris recently posted..Armchair BEA: Interview and Introduction
Felix used to bump the doors and then he would ONLY drink water out of a cup IN our tub. How’s that for difficult? It had to be freshly poured, or he’d tip the cup over and then lick it up. Nathan named him for Hurricane Felix, but then we got his brother, who we named Oscar. Oscar had health problems from beginning and didn’t last long. Felix endured for 14 years. He was a character, no question.
We kitty sat for our daughter’s cat until I woke at five a.m. with her about to hack up a hairball in my face. Felix didn’t like to sleep on my chest, so he got to stay. LOL!
Pauline Baird Jones recently posted..googlecd20eb13f78687f0
*hugs*
it’s a risk we as pet parents take, that too soon they are gone. But the time that we have w/ them is so precious and full of love it makes it worth it in the end. What I always say is that he loved you and you knew it… you loved him and he knew it… may his memory always make you smile, even through the tears. *hugs*
So sorry for your loss. 🙁 It’s amazing how important a kitty can become. *hugs