His name was Djibouti and he was, as cats go, pretty cool. He has not been doing well for a while, and the floors of our house received the business end of his unhealthiness. The vet said that he had probably gone senile, and that we were lucky he wasn’t running around in a muumuu singing Ethel Merman songs. I’m gonna miss that cat.
On the way home from the vet’s office, I was pretty sad. He was 15 years old, and I thought about how much of my life that cat had witnessed. I thought about the times in college we would party at our apartment and have the cat dance to rap songs (Cypress Hill was his favorite.) I reminisced about the time in law school when he walked over a scented holiday candle and burned off the left half of his fur. I remembered when he first met Malcolm and realized that how sad that day must have been for the cat.
I explained what was wrong with the cat to Malcolm and he went with me to the vet’s office. He understands death pretty well after the loss of (now) both our cats and two dear friends of the family. I am a little worried that he wasn’t more upset about the whole thing, considering how much of a stink he makes if I ever take away his legos or stuffed animals. I kinda teared up on the way home, and I think Malcolm could sense my grief. To his credit, he offered me some words of encouragement. “Daddy,” he said. “I think I like hot dogs.” Truer words have never been spoken.
Tags: cats
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Sergio, Evel Knievel, Jessie, and Alfonso will pour one out for their homie.
I’m so sorry — didn’t realize he was in such bad shape. Now lock up the cat door!
I will miss that cat. Feels like the end of an era.
Dude. I remember that cat from your place by SF State. He will be missed.
Ya, that cat was rad. Thanks people.