In 17 years I’ve never known a force so powerful as death when it stopped you. Why aren’t you here? Why aren’t you calling to us? Your sheer will to live makes me ask this.
Remember when you’d sit and stare at your reflection in the oven?
You never hissed, you just sat on the kitchen floor and looked at the reverse image of yourself.
When we’d see you planted there, we’d joke and say, “Petey’s looking at his brother in the oven.” These days I wonder if you knew exactly what you were doing. Yes, I think it’s true. You knew that what was there, was you. How exceptional!
You were taking an opportunity on your own terms to see who you were, not being forced to look in the bathroom mirror, held up awkwardly in my arms against your will.
Instead, you took a quiet personal moment and used that oven’s door as a means to see yourself. Oh, what a clever guy you were.
You worked it privately, not aware of an audience. You sat at attention, a foot from the glass, and thought, “That’s me. That is who I am.
That is the cat those two people love.
Wow I’ve come a long way. I’ve done pretty good.
Look at the guy who was born feral in Puerto Rico in June of 1999, sent to the USA as a kitten with his siblings, and was the last to be adopted from the kennel.
Look at the guy who never tried running off, never made a break for an open door, all I ever wanted was to be with my owners, to love them and rest with them.
I’m not looking too shabby, not looking too bad at all!”
Petey my boy, my first cat, my favorite animal in the world, who I knew as long as I knew my own father– today we bought a new appliance, and your personal reflection system will be taken away soon. It’s just one more mourning of an inanimate object, as if throwing away your bed, your toys, and your towels wasn’t hard enough.
How the world is changing with you gone.