There's been an empty feeling since he left this life. I'm happy for him, though. He doesn't have to suffer. He had been sick for a while, and, he was pretty old. This last week he had gotten really bad, and saturday, just.. well, saturday showed just how much it took to get that cat to finally leave his family.
I think animals can understand love to an extent. And if I'm right, he loved us to his fullest. He was always well fed, he was always loved, he always got attention when he wanted. s**t, One time, I AFK'd for 15 mins in an Ulduar 25 raid, telling them I had to afk to do something, when I was infact just playing with my cat. When he got sick - which wasn't often (Maybe three urinary tract infections in his life, and a a few eye infections (Probably from rubbing his face against sharp edges like a tard.) but that's it.) he was treated quickly and always got better just as fast. He had his own spot on every couch we've had - he would choose a spot and it would be his, and, like loyal subjects, we would obey king kitty's rule. When we got rid of conventional couches and got two papasan chairs, and a papasan 'couch', he didn't like them because they were hard to get in and out, so he had his own corner between the two, where he had a cushion, blanket, a cat-n** filled sock and his own 'caves' (the hollow bottoms of the papasans) to lurk around in.
He was always a social cat, hence his name 'Meow Meow' (I was little when we named him. Four years old. So, don't hate.). You could say something to him, and he would respond with a 'meow!'. He had different pitches and lengths he would use, almost as if he was really talking. We all knew he probably couldn't understand us, and we didn't know a damn thing he was saying (besides the 'meow at the dish' means feed me, 'meow and rub your leg' means pay attention, human!, and the long drawn out 'demon' meow was "Pull my back foot again and I'll rip you to bits!" ) but you could carry out a full conversation with him like that. It was always so cute.
He slept in my room alot, until his legs started bothering him and he couldn't get up and down off my bed easily. I would still bring him in and help him up and snuggle with him in bed for long periods of time, just being close, petting him, talking to him, ect. I vented a lot to him in those times, just because he would listen, and wasn't really able to judge me or think anything wrong.
If I left my door just pushed closed, and not where it fully clicked closed - he would some times come and paw his way in and just come sit with me and watch me at the computer. He's the first one I told about the girl I love right now, and, he's the first one who knew I hit level 80 on my first character to get tat far.
In my first two years of middle school, I didn't have many friends. I had one real good guy friend, and one sorta good friend who was a girl. I have some sorta block on opening up to guys - probably caused by social stigma and 'feelings' being 'gay' being instilled in guys minds even though we know it's not true - and I wasn't on that level with the girl, so, Meow was my only friend I could talk to.
Even when I made friends, got close to people, had my few girlfriends and such, he was always closest.
Mom once told me that my grandfather told her "If you ever get a cat, I'll kill it."
He HATES cats. Now, understand this. We live at our grandparent's place, Mom included, due to our situation. Since about the time I was 5, I lived with my grandparents, and even when my mom had her own place, we (me, my brother, and sister.) had to live with my grandparents. The cat? He came with us. My grandfather ignored him at first, but, funny, the guy who hates cats so much got to like this one.
He would be up every morning at 5, making lunch for work (he was an Electrician, brought lunch with him usually and stayed at the work sites, which ranged from athletes houses, to schools, to construction sites, to SIX different Nuclear power plants around the world.) and, would normally pack sandwiches. Every time I'd get up that early for a drink or to use the bathroom, I'd sneak out and watch him feed ham and salami to the cat.
Family, friends, even people that had no connection to us other than work (Like, my sister's counselor when she was in that Alternative school for girls, who had to do x amount of visits per month.) loved that cat. He would always make people smile. He surprised a lot of people too. If he was asleep on the couch, they wouldn't even know he was real. So many people would comment "Aw, such a cute pillow!" - seeing his hugs still body just laying there, until they got closer for a better look and he woke up meowing at them.
Even when we had next to no money, the cat ate well (as did the dog. s**t, we did too. Most of the time we'd axe out entertainment cash to afford good food.) and always had his favorite treats. He would always get craps from the table, or when we were cooking, we would 'drop' stuff (On purpose :3 ) for him. He was known for sticking his head right in to your cup if he liked something you had. (Ice water and iced tea being his favorites, though he was also known to go after cups of beer if someone left one sitting.)
He was always curious, even til the end. He would always get out and have adventures in the yard. A few times, he got stuck outside over night, and we would freak out, not knowing it. I remember when I was 12, going around the block, shaking his food container (best way to get him to come running.) and calling his name. Ended up finding him in the shed in the back yard, soaking wet from the storm we had the night before. (cut my self on a box cutter that day, still have the scar on my hand from it. bah.) Even at the vet when we went to...'help him', he was curious, looking around, checking out everything around him.
I feel empty. I've had this feeling before, in a smaller dose. The two girls I really loved in the past did this to my emotions when we split, but not this bad. I feel like my heart is covered in wet cement. It's not hardened yet, but, it's forming a shell around the weakly beating thing. I feel like a bit of my self went with him, as well. I hate it. I've broken down so many times in the past 72 hours, mostly when doing things out of habit. Like, going to bring him scraps only to find his spot empty, and remembering I'll never see him again. Or in Walgreens last night with my sister, when we were getting our digital prints ordered. While cropping and fixing the brightness on them, I ended up breaking down. Marc happened to be there, distracted me for a bit before he had to run.
It sucks, but, really, I know it was for the best. Meow Meow was a clean, independent, social, lively cat, even in his late days, but he was starting to get bad. Even when he was fat, he could clean himself, aside from one or two spots which we would brush and stuff, but recently, he was getting bad dander and dirty paws. Due to arthritis, his swollen back and front paws, the huge knot in his 'pouch' (his stomach used to be huge and drag the ground a few years back. We put him on a diet cat food, and he lost the huge bulging stomach, but the skin was still left. We called it his pouch, like a kangaroo.) which basically filled the whole thing, making him look like he was full of baby kittehs, and other issues made it where he could no longer jump up and down things, as well as starting on friday and getting worse saturday, making it where he couldn't walk much at all. He could hardly get in and out of the litter box, too. He was still curious and all, but, he was feeble and couldn't do his usual things. He still 'talked' but it was weak and pathetic and forced. He was losing hair fast.
We thought at first, until saturday, that he would get better and continue life until he went in his sleep or something, but, we decided early on, about six years ago, that we wouldn't let him suffer for our sake. We wouldn't hang on for our happiness just for him to be in pain. Mom had me make the final call on it, because he was closest with me, as I was closest with him. I decided to do it that night.
We all spent time with him, holding him, petting him, kissing his head, talking to him, ect. I clipped some of his white chest hair and some of his black hair from his back, to save for lockets. Held him close,ect. Ended up wrapping him in a shirt of mine to keep him warm (it was ******** freezing. We even had snow flurries somewhere in Miami. Yes. Snow. In south Florida.) and then a blanket. Took him to the vet. Didn't have enough money for everything at first, so while mom and my sister (Kym) went to talk to my grandmother (at 3:30 in the morning.) about borrowing the cash (came up to $350 with the emergency visit, shot, cremation, and customized urn) me and my brother stayed with him. My brother didn't break down, but left the room after 5 mins and went outside to smoke until my mom got back. I stayed with him the whole time, never let him leave my sight. When they got back, and got everything paid for (which took another 10 mins) the doctor came in. He explained what was going to happen, how the drug they used worked and why it did, then told us we could spend some time with him if we needed. We said our final goodbyes, which is when my brother broke down worse than I've ever seen him (and, he's pretty emotional when he gets pushed to it.), my mom and sister cried. I was dry the whole time, just staying with the cat, telling him it was alright, as two strangers held him and put a needle in him.
The liquid was a light, transparent pinkish. It reminded me of a thin, liquid pink bubblegum. It took less than 10 seconds from the time the needle was put in for him to pass. When the doctor confirmed the heart had stopped, he gave us time for closure. My brother kissed his head then went out to smoke more. (Swear the kid went through more than a quarter of a pack between 3am and sunup.) I was still dry-eyed. My sister and mom just stood there.. So, I went around front and went to kiss his head.. saw his eyes still open, looking forward... right in to mine. That's when I broke down. For 15 mins, all I did was hold him and cry. Sobbing my a** off to the extent I've only done a few times in the past. Once I couldn't cry any more - the tears just stopped but I continued to get that sob and stuff - I let my mom and sister spend time with him while I went outside to make a call.
No one was awake. No one even knew we were going out to do this, so they weren't even ready to comfort me and them. So I resorted to just leaving some voicemails and texts - which I'm sure scared the s**t out of a few people, as my guy friends always saw me as a hardass who's gone through fights with a grin on my face, who can see death over and over with out blinking, ect. Hearing me sob my a** off on the phone.. s**t, the next morning I got calls telling me to not kill my self - that's how bad it scared some of them.
But, even through all the crying. Even trough all the pain. I knew it was the right decision. He couldn't be happy with that pain, and I couldn't be happy putting him through it. I would sooner put a bullet in my skull than let something I love suffer.
As a very special person told me :
"But just think, he's up there in kitty heaven with tuna, yarn, and such."
I think she's right. I think he's gone on to what ever afterlife is out there, making the children there happy. He's being loved, and making people smile, while watching over his living family.
One day, I hope to join him, and be with my best friend once again.
Me and my brother are going to get tattoos done when we have the money. My sister may when she turns 18 as well. My brother is going a little extreme and wants a small portion of Meow's ashes in the black ink for his. I did a little reading up on this, and, people have been doing this since tattooing has been around. Some cultures used the ashes of animals that symbolized specific traits to imbue their bodies with that trait, some have done it as a form of connecting with that animal or person (or form of plant life in some cases.), and some have done it to become a walking memorial of the departed. At first, I thought it was a totally insane idea, but, the more I read up on it, the more I'm considering it as well. Yeah, it's weird, yeah you never hear about it in public, but, it allows someone to be as close as possible to the departed. I'm highly considering it being done for mine as well.
Brian wants a picture of Meow's face on his chest. I don't think I could stand the pain for that. I have a low pain tolerance. I'm thinking about either one above my heart, or on the upper portion of my right arm (so it can be covered for work and such.). A very simple one with "R.I.P. Meow-Meow" on top in a half circle, a cat paw print under it, and on the bottom, "1994-2010" in another half circle, so the words fully circle the paw print. It'd be done in a cursive font - Edwardian Script ITC, probably.
The prints should be done by tomorrow (well, today, since currently, it's 5:27 am - and damn, I started this over an hour ago.) and I'll be able to get them in the frames and up on the wall. I'm not going to feel like things are done until then. The vet said in around 14 days we'll have his ashes and the urn.
I feel like I've lost my best friend, and a brother, even though he was just a cat.
But, I feel like it had to be done. And, I feel it was for the best.
I hope he understands, and knows why we did it, and, I hope where ever his soul may be, he's happy.
I love you, Meow. Your memory will always be in my heart, and the thought of you always on my mind. You gave me sixteen years of friendship and a connection I've yet to have with any other friend in my life. I would have wanted her to have had the chance to meet you before you had to go, but, I'll make sure she knows how much you impacted my life.
In loving memory of Meow-Meow.
I'll miss you, fatty.
You'll always be in my heart.
1994-2010
Telos_LafAel Community Member 
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