Spoke too soon…
Barney, my cat, died today.
He had the feline form of AIDS, which was causing multiple failures in his little body. He was 14 years old. That’s a long time for a cat. The vet thinks his liver just gave out. He had fluid in his abdomen and filling his lungs. There wasn’t a treatment plan that would allow him to ever come home with me. He hid how sick he was, as cats are known to do. I found him this morning in my closest, panting, hiding. I was hoping it would simply take a round of antibiotics to get him back into his normal annoying behaviors. No such luck. With multiple system failures, his time was up. At least I got to see him, one last time. I even got him to purr for a couple of minutes before the end.
I can be such a hard-ass to most people, but once you’re in, you’re in. I am not one to anthropomorphize my pets, but I didn’t have children. I had pets. Putting Alex to sleep was hell. She had been sick for over a year. Once we found a treatment plan that worked, she would be OK for a few months. Her condition would reappear. I’d restart her meds and everything would be fine again. She was active, playful, grumpy at times, but generally happy. Then the meds stopped working and her time was up. Alex was the first pet I had ever had and the first one to die. Barney came into my life within a month of Alex’s arrival. My ex found in at the pound when he was a tiny kitten. He was slated to be nuked and the tech couldn’t do it. She knew someone would come for him. And so it is that he appeared in my world. He had beautiful blue eyes when he was a kitten and he could fit inside my cupped hand. He was a tiny, little guy, feral for sure. He started howling early. The ex used to call to him from upstairs. He would reply and try to climb the carpeted stairs. When he was small, he would get up 2 or 3 steps, get tired, and bounce down the bottom of the stair when he miss timed his lunge for the next step. After watching a couple failed tries, I would carry him up the staircase. I’d put him down about 3 from the top and let him do the rest on his own. I’d sit on the stairs, so he couldn’t roll past me. Once he’d get to the top, he would stand up, looking smug and take off for the calling voice. That was a very long time ago.
He would sleep near me at night, always in the bed, usually next to me in the space between the bottom of the pillow and the start of the blankets or leaning into me near my hips. When he wasn’t in bed this morning and he didn’t start walking on me this morning when my alarm were off, I had a feeling something was wrong. I had seen him sick before. He was much sicker looking when I reclaimed him.
I had that cat longer than I had my last wife…
Walking into my silent apartment this afternoon, it really struck me how much his presence filled this space. He was always here. Usually doing things I didn’t like. When I would walk in the door, he would howl at me from the top of the stairs or stand on the arm of my couch, eyeing his escape options. For all of the trouble that he was, Barney was a pretty cool little cat.
I miss him.
