When your cat dies….

"It's just a damn cat, why would I be sad."



How wrong I was for thinking that. I never knew how sad and abandoned I would feel after the death of Charlie.



    Who is Charlie?

Charlie was a homeless cat whose mother gave birth to him and his two siblings underneath my father's trailer in the driveway of my parent's home. Charlie was the cute one, the white and ginger cat. Mostly white though. Unlike his tricolour siblings he was the pretty, angelic one.


 
I still remember that day my father and I ran around in the driveway trying to catch the little bugger. He was so dirty. Full of fleas. In fact I didn't even realize all that black specks were fleas and not just dirt. I must admit I was petrified when it hit me that those dark little iotas are parasites, hundreds of them. They were everywhere on the poor little cat. Sucking his blood - making him weak. He was so tiny and I felt so sorry for him.


 
Finally, after several baths with tick and flea shampoo and some good food little Charlie was a kitten. A proper kitten. He had forgotten his tough start in life and finally was able to do what kittens are meant to do. And he did all the fun kitten stuff - break plants, flaw my mother's precious curtains, attack my father's chickens and just be a busy and playful little critter I could watch him for hours.


 
Slowly, everyone started liking Charlie. Even my dearest mother who resisted the idea of having a cat in the house, not an hour would pass without someone asking "where's Charlie" or "waar is Charlie so still" in Afrikaans, my home language. No doubt there was something profoundly special about this cat.


 
Two weeks ago, on a Saturday afternoon I visited my parents. My dad was busy in the garage so I went to greet him and right there in a box sat Charlie. He was keeping my dad company as usual. All the dust, noise and fumes didn't deter him. He was always by my dad's side. Like a guardian, he would sit there while my dad works. So many times my Mum would say that whenever the doorbell rang, the garden gate was opened or a car stopped in front of the house Charlie would get up and run to see who it was. Like a watch dog. He always alerted them to visitors or possible intruders.


 
Boy, I miss that cat. His lack of presence is definitely felt. My mom said she woke up one morning and thought she heard his tiny gold bell from his cute studded gold collar jingling as he woke up every morning as the sun rose. It's just not the same entering the house and not seeing Charlie lounging on the table on the front porch.


 
He lived for seven months before being knocked down by that dreadful car whose owner didn't even bother to stop and apologize. Sadly Charlie died shortly after the accident. Death by hit and run!


 
Losing a cat isn't easy. Not only do we have to grieve but it opens your eyes and makes you realize how precious life really is. It definitely made me look at death differently. I have never had to deal with death. I have never lost any one close to me to know what bereavement feels like. I know, it really is just a cat and not like my aunt, grandmother or sibling that died but when one day there's a cat and next day there isn't we undoubtedly will notice it and feel the loss. Cats/pets play an enormous psychosocial role in our lives, this I now know more than ever. Mmmm…I wonder how my parents would feel about a replacement Charlie.



 

"There's no need for a piece of sculpture in a home that has a cat." ~Wesley Bates