I don’t really know where to begin with this post. I don’t actually write blogs, though I’ve aspired to be a blog writer for years, the time has never magically materialized at the top of my priority list. But because I don’t want to do a long facebook post and have it deleted, here is my chosen forum. Following the theme of the site (misadventures in motherhood) this seemed appropriate.
I’m not one of those people that thinks animals are people. I get it, the cat isn’t my baby in the same sense that my children are. However, at 22 and learning who I was in life, he was the first real leap into taking responsibility for something other than myself. I’d had plenty of pets growing up, but there was always someone to fall back on that was actually responsible for their care and expenses. But having graduated college and my mother insisting that I was not at a point in life where I should get a dog, I found myself riding with her to a friend’s alpaca farm, where in the barn there was a litter of kittens hiding in the straw.
I’ll be honest, I was taken with an orange kitten. I asked my mom hopefully if I could get both, so they could be friends. But she was firm that we start with one. After assessing Smokey’s beautiful fur, blue, slightly crossed eyes, and giant feet, I knew he was the one. We left the rest there and went home, and the litter of kittens was never seen again. Whether they left and went feral or were taken by a predator, even though Smokey was young, the timing was right.
We have had a great life together. Shortly after getting him, I took a road trip to my cabin where he rode in the front seat in his carrier with a litter box made out of the lid of a shoebox. He has since been terrified of car rides…so maybe not the best plan. But we lived together at my mom’s house, he came with me as I went to law school, back to my mom’s for a summer while I traveled abroad. He moved with me to a small one bedroom apartment where we shared a bathroom, his litterbox right next to the toilet. I even had a stint there where I tried to teach him to use the toilet. It worked great until he fell in. That was the end of that experience.
He was Aaron’s wingman, when we had our first kiss. The pretense of Smokey running out the door brought him back and us closer. He was there when Aaron and I moved in together, when my Papa died, when we got Val. He was there when we bought our first house together and when we got married. He was probably among the first to know we would be parents, and has been a wonderful fur brother to my boys.
He has always been a catnip fiend. He has a strange obsession with the smell of stinky shoes. He never ate people food until he got close to the end. He would definitely knock over a water glass (though not as bad as Sami).
He was the king of our castle. The alpha, a lion. He kept Val, our dog in place and I can’t even tell you the things he and Sami had going on…Smokey was the big spoon, I’ll say that. At the height of his glory, he was over 25lbs. 3x the size of my newborn children. He had 22 toes across his feet, 6 on each of the front feet and 5 on each of the back.
In the household, we are all his, but he is only truly mine. He has been by my side through so much in life. We came together at a time where I was still trying to find myself. He has been the constant as I’ve journeyed and changed and he has been alongside me as I found my people (and pets), and they became his as well. The emptiness of the house without him is devastating. There may be a lot of tense shifting in this writing. As I sit here now, he lays beside me, sleeping, quietly breathing, with a little blep of his tongue sticking out.
Tomorrow is his last day. A rapidly growing tumor has forced me to make difficult decisions. I really felt like I had the rug pulled out from under me. What was diagnosed as benign a month ago is now uncurable and fatal in a week. When the vet recommended euthanasia, I couldn’t believe what I heard.
In many ways I am so lucky though. He is still himself. He is still by my side, and doesn’t seem to be in really any discomfort. Maybe he’s hiding it. Aside from the tumor he has been diagnosed with hyperthyroidism, and arthritis has caused problems with his hips, which sometimes causes his back legs to give out a little. While it’s not the wrong time to say goodbye, it certainly doesn’t feel right. But I can do this for my friend, my baby, my constant, my Smokey. I can let him go before he loses so much weight his heart gives out, or before he becomes terribly uncomfortable, or before his legs quit working after years of pain.
The whole thing is just so much harder than I imagined. That’s all. At the end of the day, Smokey, life is better with you. I’m afraid for what comes next. I know I’ll make it, but change is so hard. Until we meet again, I love you, I love you, I love you. May beds of catnip be your comfort wherever you go next.
Silly Mama! 