Cisco passed away Oct. 27 from thyroid cancer. Thank you all for your comments and cards, it means a lot.
The last time he sat on my desk to get my attention while I was working on something other than petting him, did I let him sit there, or did I move him so I could finish work? I can’t remember. Does it matter? He’s sat there a hundred times, and I’ve probably had to move him a hundred other times. He still came back, and he still knew he was loved, and welcome.
But that last time he sat on my arms as I tried to type, did I cuddle with him or did I pick him up and move him to the floor?
I go over and over the last day, the last week, in my head. How much pain did he feel? How much love did he feel?
He slept on the bed with me his last night. He woke up sometimes, and I did, too. He sat on my legs, as he did countless times before. I miss that weight.
I can hardly look at his favorite ottoman, but I can’t put it away either because then it would be alone and cold, and I don’t want something he loved to be alone and cold, even if it’s just a piece of furniture.
I know he had a great life. I know in my heart that he was ready to go, I could see it in his eyes. But sometimes your brain fucks with you anyway and you think maybe there was something you missed, maybe the vets were all wrong. (There wasn’t, they weren’t.)
He had a big meow and a bigger personality. He was the friendliest, sweetest, funniest cat you’d ever meet. He liked to drink water from the sink and to play laser with Michael and to eat ham, his favorite treat.
But most of all he liked to love and to be loved. He never got tired of being pet. He would follow you around the house–even when I lived in a studio. He was a social cat who loved to be touched, and you don’t find many of those. He would go to bed when I went to bed. Sometimes next to my head, leaning on the pillow, and sometimes on my legs, but mostly he’d go to his cat bed, on a dresser next to me. He’d curl up, and we’d sleep, and then we’d face the day together in the morning.
Looking at pictures of him helps. I want to drown in memories of him, of how his fur felt and how his purr sounded. I’m afraid I’m going to forget how it felt to pick him up and hold him.
I am devastated he is gone. But I am also grateful for him. Cisco was a true friend, and he showed me a wonderful love. I miss him every minute.