slightly relevant

Friday night I went out to the bar with some friends, one of whom was the one whose farm I sent Scooter to live on. It has been about two months since I brought him out there, and while he didn’t seem to be living the way I had envisioned (driving them all mad with his chatter and cuddles), he still seemed to be adjusting well enough. But that night she informed me that the previous day she had found him laying under the corner of her house, lifeless. :( She gave him a little burial for me, and from what she told me, he was still a big and heavy cat.

I thought that I was okay. I was sad, obviously, and disappointed. But I wasn’t sitting there sobbing at the counter. We had some fun and some drinks. Then after a couple hours we made our way to another bar where I had another drink. A couple hours later I headed home. I got on my computer to talk to a couple friends. I told them about Scooter. And I started bawling. It’s a good thing I had a box of tissues on my desk because by the time I was done, my little trash can was overflowing. It especially didn’t help when my friend asked me how he died. I told him that we don’t know for sure, but we suspect it was a snake bite, since he liked to hang out under her house where a lot of snakes live also. And do you know what my friend said in response? Not anything consoling or comforting. He said “or maybe he died of a broken heart”. That motherfucker. X(

You know, I didn’t want him to die. Certainly not! I thought that bringing him out there would be a winning answer for all of us. He could be outside and free to do as he pleased without harming anyone. I could have a clean home. And Genny could have some god damn peace. I didn’t want the little bastard to go and fucking die on me. Now all I’m left with is the feeling that maybe all I did was send him to his untimely death. My little baby. My fat little motherfucker of a cat. I loved him so much. I just wanted him to be free and happy. Not god damn dead.

Little Scoot-Patoot, I took you in as a baby and I raised you the best I could. I loved you with all the love I had to give. I sang to you and you sang back. I bought you all the accessories you could ever want. You were my little baby and I will never forget you. I can only hope that your last two months were enjoyable, and that your last moments alive were not spent in any sort of torture. Rest in peace, little baby.

(P.S. No, I do not intend to tell my parents. I will never hear the end of it, and I really don’t need any more grief right now. Sigh.)

This entry was posted on Tuesday, September 9th, 2008 at 9:30 pm and is filed under Fotoblog, "I Have Issues". You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.