November 18, 2006

My heart is broken. When someone leaves your life like from a breakup or an ending of friendship, there is sometimes something romantic about it, like breaking your heart leads to inspiration or creativity. You can think of that person moving on, as you move on, but you know they are living their life and hope they are happy. You know somewhere they are smiling, living, doing. Your heart mends. But losing someone to death is entirely different. You don’t know where they go; you just know they are no longer with you, no longer of this earth. You hope they are in a better place, but you are devastated because never will they smile or cry or do whatever it is they do that you so loved about them again.

Mr. Meow died on November 18, 2006. He lived 15 years, all of them save for about his first six months with me. I rescued him from the Humane Society the day he was to be euthanized. Four years ago, he had surgery to remove a cancerous mass which was attached to his spleen. They didn’t expect him to live a year after that. He gave me four. The cancer returned, this time attacking his liver, and he couldn’t fight anymore.

People who don’t have pets may not understand, but this cat was everything to me. I have never been this sad. I’ve lost a lot in my life, but there was something about this cat that gave me strength, made me calm, helped me smile, he was like a part of my family. He was my family. I feel like my heart is being clenched, and it comes in waves. It’s a soft squeeze, like the way his little paws used to knead on my chest when he was getting ready to go to sleep.