Musings on Animal I Thought I Didn't Like

We had to put my cat down yesterday.

Surely, since we just put down my dog just two months ago, for pretty much the same reasons, that was why the tears, when they arrived, weren't as profound or powerful.

But they were there.

I suppose emotions, like so many other things, cannot be measured on any kind of a scale.

Cause, for some reason, when my dog was put down, I was able to function on some level.

I can't move today. Everything aches. I'd long heard of depression.

And I think I'm there.

Let me start from the beginning.

I had been talking to this guy for, like MONTHS, almost a full year. We had been trying to meet up for eons, but this was in the space before instant mobile closed gaps in seconds. He lived in Sioux Falls and I was miserable in Colorado Springs. Eighteen hours of driving, if I was in the mood. And I still had to pay by phone call with long distance, even had a special credit card.

Well? It happened.

I have to say, I was happier dating people who had kids or animals. I showed me something about their ability to be compassionate and caring. It informed my primal man that, yes, this person was probably marrying material, basically. They could care for something other than themselves.

And Mr. Long Distance had a cat. A slight animal, no more than the weight of an envelope, she was what they labeled a 'tuxedo' cat. A strong and pure black and white, her heft meant that she could dance on the back of the couch and be on the counter in short thrift.

After we dated for a while, time passed and, well, I spent the night. The Man Who Would Become HusOtter left and two distinct moments happened. He worked all night, so I slept late, moving to the couch to greet him with smiles when he returned.

A warm spot formed on the small of my back. I thought that perhaps that confounded cat had peed on me. Betty was her name, "Elizabeth" when she was in trouble. But I reached back, as I lay there on my then-trim abdomen, and felt her purring away. I was a cushion.

I took this as a good omen. The cat liked me. So? I had an in with this guy.

The second incident happened with I made breakfast. That wonderfully confounded beast smoothed herself behind me and sat in wait as I sat down with my bagel and cream cheese. This guy had NO cable (not a deal-breaker, yet, as television was still not switched over to HD....but that would have to be remedied if the relationship was to go any further!), so I had to squeeze my vision into squints to see the shaky image and I heard a licking and munching. My arm, to my right and out of my field of vision, was treating the cat on the armrest to a breakfast snack of cream cheese.

She stopped and looked me in the eyes, as if a silent accord had been achieved. Within a step, she was forward and under my chin, with a purr and a waltz away.

I realized, for one, that she was now going to put in a good word for me. I snoozed with her and I gave her cream cheese. I had to be in her favors now. And, secondly, I had always seen myself as a dog person, even now.

But something inside my heart changed when I married this guy.

And he brought the Betty with him.

Moving in together was a process, where he had to quit his job and finish out a term. That meant, he had time to sell his house and move into my flat in Colorado Springs.

Yes, things were going well.

He moved his furniture in. And the apartment took cats, so she could stay with me, a better choice, since the house was being put on the market and the front door might open and close. She learned I was an author, and, as the world knows, cats are pretty literate. They have to be, given their airs. As I sat long hours in front of my computer near the window, she would join me as I chainsmoked.

Eventually, she'd start to cough. Here I was, killing the animal my future husband held so dear. So I would hike down the three flights of stairs to smoke, outside in the doorway of our old apartment building. Sometimes in my underwears at 3am.

The cat survived.

And I elected to quit smoking. Especially when the snows came.

The years passed and she became something of a confidant. I moved again, here to Florida and she came with me as the house, again, was put on the market. Meowed all across the nation. My husOtter had yet to find a job, and so we were stuck apart, him with the house, and, yes, me with this cat. Only now? Years had fostered a connection and we were bound. Greetings when I came home, curiosity when I arrived home with packages,  ongoing superfluous naps, and many late nights sitting on my lap when I was typing.

Like now, only she's not here.

I thought I was a dog person. I love my dog.

But I've come to realize through the generosity of a specific feline-cats are pretty awesome too.

There weren't as many tears because, like the dog, you had passed some time ago, and was just hanging on to keep us from being in despair. I get it. And our own selfishness was blind to the fact that you had aged and might have been suffering. To see you sleep one final time, to see you finally rest, made my heart happy. You needed to stop all the work you were doing, my dear old Gumby Cat (see the play, "Cats," and you'd understand!).

Rest in Peace.