Tomorrow a year ago will have been the day my beloved cat Winnie passed away.
For those of you who were not around to hear about him, he was the most important thing to ever happen in my life. It sounds stupid. But this cat helped me through so many things. I know he felt my emotions, I know he loved me so much.
I have moved so many times in my life. My parents divorced when I was in third grade, and in those 8 years I have moved five times. Twice before I moved to a new city, then back to my home town, and now to a new home in a new city. After moving back to my home town, after my sister and I had been on vacation for a week, we came back and a few days later our cat Abby was very ill. She had thrown up bile in numerous spots. She was very old - nearing 19. We had accepted this fact. On July 20th we brought her to the vet, and we put her down. Because of her old age, she would most likely not come out of whatever surgery she may have had to go through. Abby was my childhood pet. Once my parents split up, she clung to me. I was her best friend, she was mine. She loved me an incredible amount. And I loved her. I feel as though she waited to pass until I was there with her, as some pets do.
The next day we went looking at cats. We got lucky. We met Winnie, named Paul at the time, at a shelter, and he immediately won me over. He was extremely affectionate and purred and bonked me. He was a beautiful cat as well. He had so much character. We took him home that day.
He immediately took to me; perhaps he knew I was grieving, perhaps he knew I would give him as much love as possible.
Fast forward through a year of getting adjusted to living in a new house, rebuilding friendships, minor trouble in school, etc etc. I needed him so terribly and he was always there. That’s an understatement. This cat would wait at the door for me to come home from school and he would meow at me through the door once he heard the bus. He would meow at me and purr before I even acknowledged him. Whenever I sat down anywhere he was on my lap. The first day we even got him he was on my lap purring away.
A year ago today it was just a normal day. He had been acting a bit odd, so we made an appointment at the vet. That night I was up until nearly 5am. I could barely be with him because he was making me so worried. He sat with glazed eyes and his tongue sticking out. Yet, when I got in bed, he curled up next to me, and when I woke up he was there too.
We brought him to the vet, and we found out that he had severe kidney failure. It would be $2000 for dialysis, in which there was only a 10% chance he would come out okay. Of course we did not have the money. He was too far along. If we had known before I would’ve done everything in my power to help him and raise money to get him the medical care he needed.
Instead I lost him. We decided to bury him next to my uncle’s cat who passed merely 2 days before him. I held him in the box for four hours. I pet him with the cover off the box for four hours, I talked to him, I cried over him. I refused to let him go. Burying him was the hardest thing I have ever done and it continues to be. We buried him with the blanket he had at the shelter and a toy he played with. I sat with him for a very long time by myself and cried.
The next year that I faced, from that day on, has been the worst year thus far for me. That day has been the worst for me thus far. I have gone through so much god damned shit this year and I don’t know why I haven’t given up yet. Because this year I have needed him the most and he hasn’t been here with me. And I miss him. So much. But I can’t even go to sit by where he is buried yet.
I’m going there tomorrow though, we will see if I can manage it. Thanks for reading if you did. I am a complete mess right now.