Elegy for a Cat
Max the cat died today, after having cheated death for the past six months. He got to be almost eleven years old. I really have no idea how many cat years that equals.
Yesterday evening he went out and rested in the grass for a few minutes, before he went back inside and laid down next to the water bowl. He remained there until life left him this morning. He had seemingly waited for everyone to wake up and get downstairs, before he drew his last breath and his heart shuddered to a stop.
Max was an anxious soul, preferring to watch the world from a safe distance, rather than indulging in adventure. While his stepbrother went exploring in the garden, he preferred to stay in the doorway, comfortably supporting his head on the doorstep. To the casual observer he seemed to be a rather overweight and sleepy cat, but we had seen the lightning fast reflexes and his ability to literally walk on walls, while chasing mosquitos, flies and other winged creatures.
He was a cat of habit, preferring the same old food he’d always eaten and the same old spots he’d always rested on. He was utterly terrified of his own poo and prided himself of getting out of the litter box before it even hit the sand. I once saw him balancing on two legs while emptying his bowel. He never covered up after himself. Instead he scratched the floor some forty inches away, as if that would magically fix the stench-problem.
He also hated traveling by car. Whenever we brought him along for a out-of-town visit he made it a point to hide completely for the first few days. It’s still a mystery how such a big cat could disappear so completely.
He loved the feeling of soft fabric and pillows. Mackerel in tomato-sauce was his drug of choice.
They say your love for someone may be measured by how much you grieve the loss of him or her—or it. Max was a very well-loved cat, and his passing was marked by blackening sadness. It’s unfathomable how such a small animal can leave a void this big behind.
So, here’s to Max—and to a cat-life well lived. Godspeed, my furry friend.
