Purring on the way to slaughter.
Simon. He was my first kitty lover. Sixteen years ago he crawled under my sheets, settled his head in the crook of my arm and gazed deep into my eyes, kneading paws, purring wildly. I took great care in learning the perfect way to rub his face and how to scratch that ever neglected spot just between his first shoulder blades. We would spend hours loving each other this way. It was like this for so many years. Bliss.
Because he was my first kitty love he will always occupy a significant place inside me. But it was more than that. Even if he had not been my first, if he had been my fifth, there is something about him that I felt was perfection. A perfection that in my book can be reached by no other. I worried that losing him someday would create a void so unique that it could not be filled by any other and that distraction techniques could only be unsuccessful. Death of a loved one seems to create either relief or an absence so conspicuous that it develops a presence of its own.
He had startling green eyes. I have never seen color that mesmerizing. It was a dark yet a brilliant florescent green that only a feline with extra reflective retinal lining can achieve. His eye contact was so solid and intelligent it startled those unprepared. A lingering communicative eye contact that is rare to experience with another person let alone a pet. His attitude was regal and exploding with intimidating human like perception and reaction. Even after 16 years I still found myself pausing in amazement by his interaction with this world.
Just as incredible as his eyes was his purr. It was loud, strong, deep, constant. There was something sweet and comforting about it. I don’t know why out of the 8 cats we have had in this lifetime, his purr struck my soul chord, but it did.
That was why on August 18th I knew something was wrong. Nathan and I came home. I immediately went to my darling Simon, my first kitty lover and he didn’t purr. The other animals acted strange. When normally they would all pile on top of Simon to cuddle and groom their beloved alpha cat instead they avoided him completely. As if they could smell death upon Simon. I had felt his death as a distant energy creeping into our world for awhile now but all of a sudden in that moment…it felt so sudden.
He died on a Monday. The proper term I believe is “putting him down.” A scheduled mercy killing if you will. It made those last couple hours particularly poignant. His last time outside the air was thick with summer morning dew and pollen. The last love session I had with him, the scent of wet cat increasing as my tears fell onto his beautiful face. I was able to work him into a purr that last morning. He purred all the way to his slaughter.
Because he was my first kitty love he will always occupy a significant place inside me. But it was more than that. Even if he had not been my first, if he had been my fifth, there is something about him that I felt was perfection. A perfection that in my book can be reached by no other. I worried that losing him someday would create a void so unique that it could not be filled by any other and that distraction techniques could only be unsuccessful. Death of a loved one seems to create either relief or an absence so conspicuous that it develops a presence of its own.
He had startling green eyes. I have never seen color that mesmerizing. It was a dark yet a brilliant florescent green that only a feline with extra reflective retinal lining can achieve. His eye contact was so solid and intelligent it startled those unprepared. A lingering communicative eye contact that is rare to experience with another person let alone a pet. His attitude was regal and exploding with intimidating human like perception and reaction. Even after 16 years I still found myself pausing in amazement by his interaction with this world.
Just as incredible as his eyes was his purr. It was loud, strong, deep, constant. There was something sweet and comforting about it. I don’t know why out of the 8 cats we have had in this lifetime, his purr struck my soul chord, but it did.
That was why on August 18th I knew something was wrong. Nathan and I came home. I immediately went to my darling Simon, my first kitty lover and he didn’t purr. The other animals acted strange. When normally they would all pile on top of Simon to cuddle and groom their beloved alpha cat instead they avoided him completely. As if they could smell death upon Simon. I had felt his death as a distant energy creeping into our world for awhile now but all of a sudden in that moment…it felt so sudden.
He died on a Monday. The proper term I believe is “putting him down.” A scheduled mercy killing if you will. It made those last couple hours particularly poignant. His last time outside the air was thick with summer morning dew and pollen. The last love session I had with him, the scent of wet cat increasing as my tears fell onto his beautiful face. I was able to work him into a purr that last morning. He purred all the way to his slaughter.
posted by Audrey @ 1:14 PM
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