I don't like writing the word 'end.' Maybe people are right and death is just a new beginning, but to me, for now, the still very live adorer of this very adoring cat whose life has now ended, what other word can I use?
Sunny was my baby. He was a son, a buddy and a little brother. He followed at my heels, he slept tucked under with me as a kitten and as an adult he guarded me against my many fears as he lay across my legs, or beside my pillow. Without Sunny, I may never of gotten past my obsession of sleeping like a turtle, tucked in so tightly under my blankets that all I had for breathing was a tiny air hole that I so fearfully created, or my other obsession with sleeping with my legs firmly and tightly crossed, or bound up under my belly. Sunny guarded me. He watched. I guarded him back. Me and my mom are as scary as attack dogs to any cat that isn't ours in our neighbourhoods, chasing them off our property and our cat's territory with a vim. We don't want our kitties to be bothered when they're outside in their own yard. For this, our outdoor kitties just trusted us more and a symbiotic exchange of their love and mouse keeping-away services for food, pets and protection was made.
But Sunny's gone now like Mamma Kitty's gone and only Smokey is left now. She has now outlived her mother and her two-years-younger little brother. I can only hope that the crazy little fiend of a cat has at least five more years in those beautiful ticked tabby spots of hers, because I'm getting tired of losing my babies.
I'll never obsessively photograph Sunny again. I'll never follow him or be followed by him. I'll never feed him, asking for his adorable meows or give him any more treats of cheese. I'll never hug him or pick him up even though he doesn't like that, or scratch him under his collar, or see his head tilt up as I give his chin a good rubbing, or see the loose white hairs fall away from his blaze as I dutifully scratch it. Nor will I rub his soft ears, touching the backs where it always felt like there was still kitten fur there and massaging the faded tattooed skin of his inner ear between my fingers, admiring his ear knicks, wondering how he got him. Sunny will get no more scratches from other felines. He'll climb no more trees, nor will he walk up as we're sitting on the couch and look up at us, hoping for help lifting himself up. In his last few years, he got lazy about jumping up on things, but if you left him, he went up on his own. I'll never admire his sweet paws again, rubbing my fingers through his soft, soft toes, looking at his claws.
Never will I kiss his gentle orange and white head again.
It's really hard thinking that last Christmas he was big, plush and healthy, being funny playing in the snow, roaming around. When I saw him last, that last, horrible time after his stroke, he was still big, but everything about his manner was wrong and his back bone stuck out over his hips as it never before had. Poor Sunny. I wish I could have kept you from dying. I love you buddy. Sleep on...
I made stupid mistakes towards Sunny's last years and end, yet this has made me value life more and the other people I love I think. Yesterday, I thought of something to give Smokey, the cat who doesn't like anything. I'm trying to think of something to give my Dad, to thank him for caring for my baby when I wasn't there and I already have something for my Mom. She's easy. Dad and Smokey aren't. I'm even trying to think of something for my brother too, as impossible as that is for he has seemingly everything material that he wants.
The strangest thing about Sunny's death is that I think I knew about it a day before it happened. The night of the 18th I had a dream of a litter of grey tabby kittens, one of them extra spotted, then a tabby who looked like Smokey, only bigger and haler with a more pronounced mustache, looking like one of her littermates, looking up at me with her green eyes. I thought impossible, that looks like one of Smokey's siblings! The thing about Smokey, is that she's got a very distinct pelt pattern. Smokey and her siblings were all part Egyptian Mau which is obvious in their green eyes, their character, their love of dashing around (Egyptian Maus are the fastest domestic kitties and are believed to be the first ancient breed) and their fur is spotted, just like a mau, only with Smokey, her fur is also ticked. The cat in my dream looked like her, but it had differences in its markings and it was bigger, so it definitely wasn't her. My mom believes that it was probably Whiskey, Smokey's sister who passed away at only about six weeks old, who we buried among the violets in the shadow of Mount Rose.
No matter which of Mamma Kitty's other babies it was, though it strikes me as pretty given that it would be Whiskey, the cat's expression as it looked up at me was incredibly direct in my dream. It was unmoving, just looking at me, an adult cat trying to tell me something important with its stare.
That day, I remember that had an uncanny thought; Sunny could die today. Accompanying that thought, was a knife edge certainty that it could indeed happen, but then I thought No, not on the eighteenth. Not on the anniversary of my birthday. I don't want to see this day in a bad light.
Fate listened and Sunny passed away on the Nineteenth, at 3:50 pm instead. He was euthanized and from what my parents say, he seemed grateful to be going to his end because he purred the whole way, louder than since he had as a baby. It's weird though, those thoughts I had the day before. I wonder if Sunny was somehow communicating with me, or if it was Whiskey, the spirit that had come to help him him or something else. I don't really believe in a god you see. I believe in spirits and the Law of Attraction and the afterlife and reincarnation, but I don't really believe in God. I believe in spirits because the world has given me strong evidence that they exist and that they have a sway on things. That's how I know that my dominant spirit guide Wolf the arctic wolf exists and that Mamma Kitty's still here, protecting us, still being our kitty if only as an invisible one. A loving presence. I believe also, since long ago, that Sunny is another of my spirit guides. I guess now he's just gone to guard over my life in another way. I will miss his love dearly, but maybe it still exists?
Maybe he also heard what I couldn't bare to say, that last time I spoke to him over the phone, the words my mother told me to say; it's okay to die Sunny. Mommy loves you. I guess it doesn't matter whether I thought that or whispered it to his ears while laying next to him on the floor. He's passed away now and what's done is done and if that was Whiskey coming to get him, I'm grateful to her. Thank you Whiskey, for helping him.
I mourn and mourn. My mother says that I will miss Sunny forever and she is right. There is no other cat in the world like Sunny, nor will there ever be. He was an individual and like an individual flower, once he's gone, he's gone, never to bloom in his magnificence again, at least in this life. On the mornings of the Eighteenth and the Nineteenth Copernicus had the bizarre compulsion to lay on top of my legs like Sunny had once done and maybe, maybe that was Sunny acting through him, telling me that it was alright. Copernicus hasn't done it since, but he lays closer to my legs now, as he never had before. Maybe Sunny told him to. I hope so. I miss him. Copernicus will never be like Sunny, because he is a brat and a biter and not a saint like Sunny is, but he's still a kitten yet... maybe in time he'll earn his own title, as I have given my other cats. Mamma Kitty the Dowager Warrior Queen. Saint Sunny the monk in a past life. Smokey the Princess, now a Queen. What's Copernicus now, the rebellious squire?
Sunny's entire life passed within mine. In some small ways when the grief is the worst I wish I had died with him, but I still have a long life to live. I still have stuff to do and things to see. He'll be waiting for me on the other side with Wolf, Whiskey and Mamma Kitty. By the time I die, will there be a gaggle of cats? Will there be some dogs? Will there be any horses or other things? I still have a life to live. I still have more love to give and to receive.
It just pains me that now Sunny's to be left behind, in the recesses of my life. From the time I was nine to now at twenty-one, I have never stopped loving him... and I never will.
I have to go home soon to the Okanagan to get closure because this nightmare won't be completely real until I wander a house that is empty of my Sunny. When I sit down on the couch, no Sunny will appear wanting a lap, looking up at me with love in his eyes. No Sunny will lay curled there, reaching out to Mom beside me with his paw. No Sunny will sit on my lap as we watch television or play video games or watch animation. No Sunny. No Sunny meowing for cheese in the kitchen. No Sunny on his mat, purring. No Sunny following. No Sunny greeting. No Sunny.
But when I grow old and crotchety, when time has grown still and when all my stories have been told, I will see Sunny. I will feel his tail wrap around my ankle once more and I will feel the shed of his soft fur. Once again orange will grace my clothes... or fur as the case might be.
I can be happy at least knowing that Sunny is waiting and that makes death a little less scary now because he's waiting for me.
Rest in peace buddy. I will always keep your memory curled around my heart.
Back when I had visited in July. I was so hopeful; Sunny had been acting a little like himself here and there. For me, he was trying.I wish I hadn't left him; maybe he would still be alive.
My last sight of him...
It will never be enough that I went to see him in July, because I know, given by how he behaved when I was there, that if I had stayed, he would be alive, perhaps improving by leaps and bounds by now. He would be sitting on my lap right now, purring up a storm, or just hanging out preciously beside me. He wouldn't be dead. He would be alive and his kitty hair would be gloriously all over the place. It's my mistake. I'm sorry Sunny...
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