Friday, September 11, 2009

Time of death: 4:12 PM

Our cat, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy ("Mr. Darcy" for short) has been fading away this past six months very slowly, but this past week he's just went away.


But he was still spry, even though he could barely pull himself out of the bed. He was still there, seeking attention and affection, even though his mews were faint and complaining. The rheumatism.

Last night, he couldn't make it to the litter box anymore, and today, all he could do is lie beside me in the big bed, he couldn't manage an escape when my cara spoza came in to check on us (cats on the bed is a no-no).

It was time.

I brought him into the clinic, and, wouldn't you know it, he worked up enough energy to try to hide from me when it was time to go. I held him as the tranquilizer took effect, and it did so expeditiously. And then he got the shot. He was gone before I even felt him go. He was still warm, but his chest wasn't moving anymore, but I could only tell by looking into his eyes.

"He's dead?" I asked the doctor who looked like he was about to cry, too.

"Yes," he answered quietly, "he may gasp, but his heart's stopped."

The aide couldn't look at me as she offered her regrets and offered not to give me the receipt. "I'm sorry for your loss," she said.

"Thank you," I replied verbally, but I thought me, too.

No more hugs and rubs and scratches from our playful ocelot.

I wonder when it will hit me.

September 11th, 2009, 4:12 pm. A minute before he was leaning heavily into my embrace, and then a minute later he was gone.

Another reason for me to hate this date.

1 comment:

Eve said...

Yes, a date to hate, specially for most Filipinos who suffered during he martial law years, for on this date, the dictator was born.

But for me, a date, not exactly to hate, but just remember, for on this date, my mother died twenty years ago.

Let this just be a date to remind us of beautiful moments spent with them.

For Mr. Darcy, I will treasure the time he accepted me - eyeing me, slowly walking towards me, gingerly hopping and settling on my lap as I was seated on the rocking chair in the living room by the front window. I felt I belong. No longer just a visitor. The feeling was akin to the one I felt when a two-year old kid planted a kiss on my cheek, without prompting, while we were seated by the same front window, waiting for the arrival of her Mama and the new baby.

To Mr. Darcy, thanks for the memories!