|He was great at seeing the world in a unique way.|
I wasn't wild about getting a cat, so I didn't expect what happened next. As I walked past the row of cages, I felt the slightest pressure on my left shoulder; the sweetest little furboy had his paw on my shoulder. I was done; I didn't choose him, he chose me.
The adoption papers were signed, and because we'd already prepared the house for our new addition, he came home with us right away.
|Benld's the name. Lap-sittin's the game.|
Naming him was difficult, because he just didn't seem to tell us what to call him. He was, however, a little bit stupid; sort of the frat boy version of a cat. He would beg for food, come when called, and meet me at the door when he heard my car. After a few months of trying different names, one finally stuck:
He became my closest companion. His affection for me was endless; he wanted to be wherever I was whenever I was home. Sometimes it seemed he wanted to crawl right up my nose, gross though that sounds. Nothing made him happier than having me nearby.
When the ex and I parted ways, he sensed my sadness and seemed to take some of it on so I didn't have to shoulder it all myself. The night my ex moved out, he started sleeping on his pillow. He made being alone not so alone, after all.
He made it okay.
|Let sleeping cats lie ... on their own pillow, apparently.|
About 18 months ago, he had a major life change that really seemed to make him happy. He and I moved in with my sister Pat, and he got to have another person to love, full time. He was constantly providing us with snuggles and purrs, and singing the song of his people. It was an easy exchange - food and chin scratches for love and kitty kisses.
He always let you know that you were loved.
|He always wanted to be where I was. Always.|
As unbelievable as it is, my love-filled boy's heart was giving out. Sure, I could have made my way into the poorhouse and tried some heroic measures to buy us a little time, but the truth of it is, that would've been for me, not for him. Up until last night, he showed no sign of sickness; he was my best pal, showering me with love and letting me hold him like a baby. That he should suffer heart failure is just beyond my imagination, but that's where we're at.
His constant message was love. The song of his people was love. He never stopped loving.
And so this morning, I sat with him in my lap, and we said our goodbyes. He looked up at me with those big green eyes, and I could see that it was okay. His heart may have been giving out, but it could still love. In the end, that was just about all he was able to do, but damn, did he do that well.
I will miss him always, but by the same token, I will always feel grateful for that day when he chose me to be his Person.
|His final photo, one last nap on our bed before signing off.|