Two years, eh?

So has it really been nearly two years since that previous intersection of narcissicism, introspection, and a perceived need to vent? Is it time to discuss the tribulation of a life live differently, or perhaps work, or maybe politics?

No. Death is the topic today.

Kato died today. Kato, for those not in the know, is the name of my cat. One of three, Kato was the first we got. He was a noisy little fluffball of a kitten with WAY too much personality for his little body. I was sold on him when he dragged my finger through the bars of the cage and captured. He was bound and determined to get my attention, and he sure did. I took a shine to him, took him home, and haven't regretted a second of it.

Kato is, no, was a large, midnight black, yellow-eyed domestic short hair. His momma was a strikingly pretty deep black long-hair. Neither Kato nor his sole sibling shared her fur length though. Near as we can tell, his daddy was a Siamese. I say this for a number of reasons. First is that his brother was the same elegant build and colour as Kato, but had bright blue eyes like a siamese. And, when seen just right int he sunlight, Kato's fur has unmistakble Siamese style points that only showed in his undercoat. And, boy, was he vocal. That cat would have a conversation with you if he had something to say. Graceful, long and lean like a siamese as well. Kato really was a pretty cat.

Looks aside, it was the personality that grabbed me, and everybody else. In over nine years, Kato never scratched a single human, and only bit once (and that was because I was trying to deal with an injury on him, so I don't blame him). He was a gentle and loving as the day is long, and got on well with everyone. I can't count how many people I know that disliked cats and still said they would take Kato in a moment if we'd give him up. He was just that great of a cat.

Oh, and he was hypoallergenic to boot. More than one person with pretty solid cat allergies handled, held, and petted Kato to no ill effect.

Anyway, we were heading out of town friday night, and I noticed that one of the cats had yarfed on the floor. When we got home saturday night, we found some more. I figured it was just a hairball thing, but reolved to take a look at them all anyway. He showed no signs of illness or anything, so we went on with the evening. He was quiet this morning, and lounging as he was wont to do. jenn even spent some time petting him as he lay on the back of the couch.

At some point, he wandered over under his favourite chair and fell asleep. Eldest Daughter found him laying there with his eyes open and told us. I checked, and he was gone. Told the kids to go upstairs because I knew the tears were going to start. I took my shirt off and wrapped him up in it. I don't really know why, except to say that he was cold when I touched him, and I just couldn't bear to put him in that cardboard box without something around him. Later, with maya's help, I transferred him to a plastic bag and put it back in the box. No idea when we were going to get him out, and I wanted to cut down on any smell, y'know? Still, that was the hardest thing to do.

He was my baby boy, and his fur was still glossy and soft, and I wanted nothing more than to hold him, pet him, and hear that deep purr. But he was cold, and limp, and heavy, and... gone. The tiny little guy that had fallen asleep on jenn's chest in the car on the way home, the curious kitten that had stuck his head in my mouth when I yawned, the affectionate lovable mess that had comforted me so many times and spent so many nights yapping and yowling at me because he wanted fresh water - all gone.

Eldest daughter burst into tears at dinner, and couldn't explain why. maya got out of her that it was because she'd been the one to find him. Youngest daughter is trying to wrap her brain around it, and is wondering when she'll die and see Kato again. Youngest son asked, with big sad eyes, "when would Kato be undead?" My mom was choked up on the phone when I told her, and my friends are shocked and sad.

My folks offered to get him and take care of the body. I can't do anything with it here as we don't have a private yard. There is some cold comfort in knowing that he'll still be wrapped in my shirt when he's buried. He was MY cat. If he's going to be stuffed in a hole somewhere, I don't want him in there without something from me. And I can't help but feel like he'd hate it where he's going. Kato was always an indoor cat, and hated going outside. If there was some non-creepy way to bury him indoors, I'd do it. Nothing would honour his memory more than keeping him inside.

I sat there tonight trying to hang out with jenn and maya and the whole time feeling this huge absence. Part of me kept expecting my baby boy to come by rubbing up on my legs looking for some attention. In retrospect, he hadn't been as demanding lately. Maybe he was slowing down. Maybe whatever killed him was making him lethargic. I don't know. I tell myself that he wasn't in pain. I was in the same room as he was when he went, and never heard a peep out of him. He was laying under the chair in the same position he often slept in. So I gotta think that he went quietly mid-nap.

He shouldn't be dead. He should be upstairs snoozing ont he back of the couch, and I should have him chattering at me for fresh water when I go upstairs. Buttercup is in the bedroom in her place. Journey is probably in the bedroom or in the kid's room, like usual. Kato should be in the living room. He shouldn't be in a hole behind my folk's house. He wasn't that fucking old.

My eyes hurt. My throat hurts. My chest hurts. I hurt. I'm not hurting for him. He's gone. I'm hurting for me, for the kids, for jenn and maya. There's a hole in my house where a big lovable black tom should be.

I love you, baby boy, and dear god how I miss you.

The rest of my life? Whatever. I still draw breath, so does everyone else. For now, grief eclipses the rest of my inanities.