An Ode to Kiki

I must apologize for my extended absence. Has it really been three weeks already? What with having my husband home my experiment in solitude is now over, and therefore I have had less of a need (and less of an opportunity) to post. A thousand apologies!

Things have also been absolutely crazy. My elderly cat slash best friend slash baby slash love of my life has been ill, and it’s taken a major toll on me. Luckily things seem to be improving, but there’s no certainty that there isn’t some underlying (and more serious) health issue to blame.

People may say that I am far too attached, that he is just a cat, and that I need to prepare myself for the worst. When people say that it makes me want to punch them in the face. How can I prepare myself to say goodbye to this?

Yes, folks. He actually sleeps like that. He also spends all night, every night, curled up in my arms. My husband gets very jealous that I cuddle the cat instead of him. He got so jealous that it led him to adopt our second cat about two years ago so that he could have one of his own.

The funny part about that is, though, that my Kiki was actually his first (which may explain the horrible choice of name for a male cat). When my husband was a kid, sitting in the car with his mom at a stop light on the busiest road in town, he saw a little black and white kitten run under the car stopped next to them. He jumped out and rescued the feral kitten, named him Stinky, which then turned into Spunky, which then turned into Kiki.

Then some years back, a little while after my husband and I started dating, I was away at college and for the first time was living by myself. I resolved to get a cat and my husband decided that, instead of getting another one, he would “loan” me Kiki.

That “loan” turned into a permanent gift very quickly. This cat became so attached to me, and I to him, that my friends began making jokes about how Kiki must think of me as his “god”, and how I must love him more than I love my husband. He greets me at the door whenever I come home. He sits on my lap at every possible opportunity. He comes when I call him. He is, without a doubt, the best cat I have ever met, and will probably ever meet.

Kiki has been with me through some of the most memorable moments of my life. He has comforted me through hard times. He was there the day I graduated from college. He was the one I celebrated with when Obama got elected. He even got dressed up in a kitty tux when I got married.

I am simply not ready to say goodbye. Even the mere thought of it makes my eyes well with tears. Perhaps my problem is I have never lost anyone very close to me. Perhaps it is a little sad that the first time that happens it may be a cat. All I know is this: I will be utterly and completely devastated when it happens, and I refuse to accept that it will be anytime soon.

I apologize for this mushy and somewhat depressing post with no real point. It’s just that this is all that has been on my mind lately, so it’s all I can think to write about. I promise I’ll make the next one more cheery!

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