Archive for September, 2011
He’s not really lost, he’s still alive and well, preserved in my memories, thousands of photos and the remaining energy he left around my home. He’ll live on immortal as long as I don’t let those memories fade.
Dart lived a happy, bountiful life with his bigger brother “Monk” taking care of him every day. While they were only a year or so apart, they both grew up so fast, with Dart taking the dominant lead at the food bowls and watering cooler and Monk passively waiting his turn. He never wanted for anything, and had anything he could need. Not even the Type 1 Diabetes diagnosis he carried for the last year of his life could slow him down.
Dart, I won’t forget the way you’d chatter your jaws at the birds outside the window, or frantically chase the laser pointer across the floor with your oversized paws. The speed you’d get that yellow ball going around the track playing “tunnel-ball”. The way you’d play fetch up and down the stairs with whatever I could get you to grip in your teeth. You’re the only cat I’ve ever had that I taught to play fetch, and maybe you’ll continue to hold that title forever.
I will miss all of our good times together, curled up with movies, spinning you in circles on the floor, sharing fresh canteloupe slices together, watching the way you’d devour whole green olives with the pimento included, or chasing bugs around the lights. You were such an original, weird cat. The silence in my home will no longer be broken with your loud meows from afar or your fast running from room to room.
Monk already knows you’ve gone. He spends the days and nights going from room to room, searching all of your hiding spots, meowing “Marco” in the hopes that you’ll return with a familiar “Polo” so he can find you in the dark somewhere. But nothing other than silence accompanies his calls. I think he’s going to miss you most of all. His little buddy is gone now, and he’s all alone.
I didn’t want to let you go… but you and I both held on until the very last minute. Your organs just started failing you, for reasons that no medicine or medical procedure we tried, could find. I did everything I could to ease your pain and suffering, and I was left with only one choice.
The worst of all choices.
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