(this is the same post from FWF but I felt the need to spread it around)
I made a joke earlier this week to the cps. Something along the lines of I’d hope one day to be able to write without various things in my life going to hell. But then, I may not know HOW to write without strife. OK, not a very funny joke.
In the last two weeks, I lost two of my cats. This particular pair was born the year of the LA riots (1992), which happened to be the same year that I graduated from college. These cats were born at my parents’ house and moved with me four different times. They were with me through times when it was pretty much just me and an occassional friend dropping by. The last 10 years they’ve been with me and the SO, watching as we acquired a bunch of younger cats (because the SO can not stand to see a cat suffer. Simply isn’t in him). For nearly half of my life, they were with me when I was sick, kept me company in times of lonliness and watched over my early writing attempts. They were one of my early signs that the SO was a pretty cool guy.
These two saw me through so much and now they’re gone. I’d like to say both died peacefully, but I can’t. Both were very sick in the end and there was nothing we could do for them except watch them suffer. One died two weeks ago yesterday and we had to put the other to sleep yesterday because he was headed for the same painful end.
They are now without pain and for that, I’m grateful. I had them with me for 16 years and I’d like to think that they lived good lives. They were loved as best as we could love them. I hope they’re together again and enjoying the sun in the great beyond.
Damage and Squack. Rest in peace, my loves. I will have and do have other cats, but there can’t ever be two others like you.
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Much appreciated.
