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I'm going to apologize in advance, it's just I'm not entirely sure where to deposit this. So I'm sorry for the very large amount of depressing text.
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Tabitha ‘Baby Girl’
Much Longer Ago than I Thought - 09/15/2018
Twenty five pounds of loving fluff and derp is currently trying to eviscerate what tattered remains hang limp on an untreated 4x4, formerly known as a feline scratching post. Sitting there watching this display of feline roulette between claws entering shreds of hemp rope, and the carpentry staples securing said rope, is what prompted me to suggest stopping by the local pet supply store on the way home from picking up my then significant other, from work. I’m sure Pixel’s paws would appreciate not being ripped open in the process of doing as cats do... and the current cat post is well beyond saving. I mean he had even managed to shred the short pile carpet covering the top and base. It is ultimately his destructive nature, granted never aimed at furniture or shower curtains, that lead to the best companion I could have ever asked for to enter my life for the next 4 years.
I lived at the time in Saline MI, a small town just south of Ann Arbor, having just moved there the previous month from my hometown of Chicago. Work related transfer, I wasn’t really complaining. I’m not going to even hint that the relationship I was in at the time was healthy, or that my job in life at the time was much more than being my SO’s taxi service. Getting out of the city, changing my surroundings, hoping things would get better. Seemed like a good thing at the time. Spoilers, they don’t. Though that will be a focus later on. Main point being, new town, new home, new challenges, my birthday is in a few days, or had just passed... I can’t rightly remember. There was more than a few inches of snow all over, this being March and all, and using practical reasoning was about all I could do to suggest maybe fixing the lack of scratchable material in the house before Pixel either hurts himself or turns to the upholstery was a good idea. Pixel is the silent cat behind the scenes, raised him since he was small enough to lay in between my arms whilst typing. The ‘runt’ of the litter I was told by the mutual friend which just ‘showed up one day’ to visit with a 5 month old kitten in her coat. Grew into the large framed, large pawed, large hearted loaf that sleeps on my side nearly every night now. So of course I don’t want to see him hurt himself catching a claw on a bit of staple. So my ‘maybe we should stop at <Midwest Brand Pet Store>’, turned into a ‘we are stopping’ further into the drive home. This delay in the decision caused us to stop at the store closer to home than my original intent of the one down the road from work. This would also make all the difference looking back.
So braving the snowy walk from the parking lot to the door we enter trying to find the ‘cat’ section. Which of course is in the far back corner of the store. You know, like the dairy section. Gotta make the patrons walk past all the tropical fish and reptiles to get their cat food. Well this particular store had another trick up its sleeve, making you walk right past the feline adoption center. Neat! Look at all the sad confused uncomfortable cats being displayed here from the local humane society. I have a large heart, left unchecked I could easily adopt a small herd of animals. However knowing reality is a thing, along with the crushing financial problems our household has. I am completely content to just keep walking past to the now visible replacement cat posts. Completely content to leave the number of felines already present in the household exactly the same as it was upon entering the store. Completely content to just walk over and pick out a new scratching post to alleviate-
*Thunk*
Huh, what a weird noise. Almost sounded like a very small skull bashing against a glass wind-
*Thunk*
Totally not going to turn and look. Totally not going to pay more attention to the, likely, adorable animal in the tiny cage to my lef-
*Thunk*
God damn it you are not making this easy.
*Thunk*
Fine! I’m going to look to acknowledge that you want attention so you stop hitting your head on the-
Oh. See now... What had happened was. I fucked up. I locked eyes with the most intense stare I’ve ever received by a being unable to communicate in a human language. It said nothing, and everything at the same time. There wasn’t ever a question. That moment on, I knew that this feline was coming home with me.
It’s rare in life to be chosen by a pet over choosing a pet. Molly was my mother’s cat from before I was born. Molly guarded me like I was her kitten and always sat on my lap every chance she had. Pumpkin was a hand off of a deceased relative, and always shy around humans. Orion and Twilight were shelter rescues my parents picked out. Monty the same. Mina was my SO’s cat. Even Pixel was kinda just, Surprise I have a kitten in my coat! I mean I’m not going to say that any of these bonds are any less special... Okay that’s a lie to myself and a massive slight against the derpfluff asleep on my bed in the other room. However that’s really the fact of the matter. I had this little tiny brown and black tabby colored cat and her big green eyes drilling holes into my face through tempered glass. Now how to I navigate the minefield that is our budget to appease this tiny creature. Oh what luck it’s still early enough that the shelter staff member is still on site and would love to show... What was her name?
Tabitha.
A first meet and greet. Her crawling all over my shoulders. Purring that I swore was going to rattle her teeth out. A shocked shelter worker as apparently Tabitha has never displayed such warmth before. Female, spayed, assumed age of four, five at the oldest. Vaccinated, microchipped, had a litter of kittens at some point. Chipped left incisor and small rip on her left ear. She got turned into the shelter by animal control, feral, where she spent the next two years bouncing around foster homes. Clean bill of health from their vet, weighed 4.2lbs (1.9kgs). Okay so what’s next? Paperwork, me leveraging my birthday to pry the adoption fee from our consistently empty bank account. Carrying the nervous, and voicing her opinion on that, Tabitha from the store back to our car in a cardboard cat caddy. Driving the short distance home and hoping that she’d integrate into the household well due to her shelter experience. Being around strange people and strange other felines in strange new places.
She did. All but five minutes after getting home does she find the blanket that would forever become hers and curled up... well inside it, kneading herself to a happy place. This would be the first indication of how calm this cat would be, about everything really. I mean sure, she still didn’t trust humans totally. I’ve always craved another lap cat after Molly passed away when I was much younger. I tried... she said no. Though she would always hang around my side of the room, whichever that was at the time. Sitting behind my computer monitors. Laying above my head at night. Attempting to follow me out into the garage, or down into the basement workshop. Attempting... Okay so why not. Sure I’ll open the door to this cold outside snow covered porch and see what y- Okay no! Nooo... no... I’m not sure I wanted you to just walk out and be okay with this. One mini sized dog harness and leash purchase later, try this again. I’m not going to say Tabitha wasn’t confused as all get out about this nylon, thing, I was stringing around her torso. Though she figured out fast enough that it wasn’t going to hinder her, and out she went into the foot high snow. For about ten minutes before a much colder and damper cat wanted to go back inside. I’ll give her so much credit. She wanted to see the whole damn perimeter of the house before leading me back inside.
I take it for granted now, I’m not even sure how surprised I was initially how naturally she seemed to be on a leash. Never pulled, tested her limits sure. How far I was willing to let her go into or under things. However if it was out in the open I never corrected her. I let her lead where she wanted to go, always. This cold tail end of winter day was the beginning of letting her be as adventurous as she wanted to be, and then some. So I’d start taking her outside more often. Carrying her into the seperate garage where I was working on restoring a classic Z. Letting her come downstairs into the unfinished basement while I worked on 3D printed wares... Always watching her of course to make sure she didn’t crawl up into the rafters, or poke her curious nose into something hazardous. To find that she just hung out near me. Even through the loud noises and sudden movements. Grinding of metal or sanding of plastic. Dropping a tool or dropping a subframe. Through the months I found that not only did I have to watch her less, she was also getting close and close to me inside the house. Three months or so after having rescued her from the shelter, she crawled on my lap one night while I was at the computer, and just would not leave. Oh. Okay. This is a thing now. And so it would be to the end. I had a little lap cat again, that despite her very small size and weight could still turn my legs numb way too quickly. I can say her large heart, but reality says leverage.
Spring had sprung, Outside walks were more frequent. The neighborhood dog walkers knew of me as I was starting to venture farther and farther from the house with her each time. Tabitha was learning that if she followed me, at least for a bit, we would end up someplace new before she would tug a direction so she could eat grass. Or whatever it was she enjoyed actually doing. It had also become apparent through the mistakes of, well eating... that Tabitha was interested in any and all things human food. Dairy, meats, vegetables, creams of any kind, hot or cold food. Food was food. Though cheese was by far her favorite. Didn’t matter what kind of cheese, she would violently attack the person eating it to get her ‘share’... by which I mean all of it. I mean it makes sense, her being a feral cat and all in her younger years. Trash cans provide food waste. Food waste provides hungry small feline with energy to not die. Pickiness over one’s palette goes out the window in that scenario. I don’t even blame her, rather encouraged it. Though to be fair I would always be trying to train her to ‘wait’... so I could feed her and myself at the same time over having to defend from her attack. Never did quite get her to listen on that one. So the games of ‘does Tabitha like X’ began. To this day the only things I can say she didn’t like to eat or drink is limited to; Soda/Beer carbonated drinks, carrots. Literally anything else you could conceivably think of she’d eat. Spicy, sour, salty, plain bread... She would. It’s by this point it’s no surprise that she had digestive issues from the day I got her.
More time passes. The front enclosed porch turns into a cat area. Cat trees, pillows, chairs for sitting. More importantly berry bushes bloom and attract an ungodly amount of small birds right next to the windows. I notice Tabs is starting to understand human speak more and more. Well outside the normal expected ‘food’ and ‘comere’. ‘Tabs I gotta get up’, for example had a different response than ‘Tabs I gotta use the restroom’; where as the first would cause her to wander off to do cat things, and the latter would have her sitting on my desk waiting for me to come back. ‘Tabs it’s bedtime’ would get her to make her way to the bedroom and lay down on her blanket, above my pillow. ‘Want some cheese Tabs?’ Was by far her favorite thing to hear. Now the reason I bring up the birds by the windows ties into this concept. Tabitha had learned what ‘bird’ means. Usually that I spot one before she does and she’ll scan the bushes looking. Spot it, and proceed to make the cat sound that roughly translates to ‘I’m going to eat the hell out of your corpse!’ I would however always point at the bird, which to be fair was usually in the bush outside the window. Until one day when it wasn’t. It was smack dab in the middle of the front path leading to the door of the sunroom turned cat haven. It’s a human instinct to point. To understand that we as humans understand that calling ‘Object Name’ means to follow the arm, see the finger pointing a direction. Realize that is in reference to the person’s point of view, follow said finger’s direction relative to where you are standing to the same direction as the object named to find where it is. It’s so second nature for us as humans that we don’t think of the complicated abstract reasoning that goes along behind it. Part of what makes humans human.
So I call ‘Bird!’ and point.
She scans the bushes as normal, yet doesn’t see one. Well I guess she trusts me, and I have never been one to toy with commands, crying wolf. So she flops her head over her shoulder and looks at me at first with a ‘what is this shit’ look, sees my dumb human ass pointing like I expect a cat to understand what that means... cept she follows my arm, and finger, and spots the offending avian far from the normal ‘spot’. Then proceeds to skullfuck the glass door screaming to get in her belly. This begins the skill she had of looking where I was pointing first when I called something, specifically food or prey related. To this day the fact she understands what ‘pointing’ means both terrifies me, and makes me so proud. It also lead directly to the death of more than one bird, and a plethora of rodents. I never let her eat them, or well at least the ones I knew about. Mainly because I didn’t want her catching whatever parasite or virus they could be carrying. She was content enough getting to hunt again. Call me terrible, but at least I can say I sport hunted finches with my cat.
Humans suck. It’s winter again. It’s been ten months since moving from Chicago. In that time I’ve been through some very dark places. Learned things about my supposed life partner and then Fiancee I had suspected for a good while, yet now have been forced to face head on. I’m not writing this to smear anyone, just... setting the scene. There have been many a night around this time where the only reason I didn’t end myself was the single thought; ‘Who’s Tab’s going to have then?’. Who’s she going to rely on for comfort. Who’s she going to see and know that no matter what’s happening around her, everything is fine. It’s all good so long as I’m there. Cause that’s what it was. That’s what I had figured out by then. All the crazy shit both of us did. It all boiled down to her always checking to make sure I was close by, and if I was she was chill about it. Car rides, firework noises, thunder, strange new places, strange new cat that my fiance just brought home one day that for whatever reason thought Tabs was his personal toy to chase about mercilessly until she took refuge on my lap. I can never thank her enough for being that light. Sometimes that’s all it takes.
A month later and with the help of friends and family, many long nights trying to parse a reality back together that wasn’t based upon lies and deceit. A moving van, trailer, one very not happy Pixel and one sleeping on the passenger's seat Tabitha. I left the last eight years of my life behind. I’d like to say that things got better magically afterwards. No, but they were nowhere as close to as bad as they were. Back home in Chicago, oh look new job in an industry I love. Oh sweet coming out to be truthful to who I am and what I am. Oh nice all the old friends around again and doing things on weekends. Yet always coming home to Tabs sitting on the same spot by the door. Welcoming me home.
We explored the hell out of the local parks. Well... except the dog park. This is the point I tried kayaking with her. Okay yes, I mean. It’s water right? Cats hate water. I mean sure I only did it once. Sure she was none too plussed with being wet from paddle splash. However she did eat the heck out of that grass when we stopped, after I toweled her off. Worth it.
The next two years passed much too quickly now. Tabitha got to see me embrace who I am today. She got to see me come to peace with the ‘what once was’ with my previous relationship. She was there through all the tough nights, and good nights. The long gaming sessions with her purring away on my lap. The cold winter nights burritoed above my head in her blanket. The summer days out wandering the front yard, or the park a few blocks away. She got to miss me while I was away at events and gatherings. She got to welcome me back home afterwards. She got to sit on my shoulders, or above my neck on my chair back. She got to lay on all the firearms while I was cleaning them. She got to lay on all the range bags. I got to set her up another bird spot, and watch her bonk her head off the glass attempting to catch them. So smart... yet glass defeated her intellect once instinct took over. She got to see me recover and start to thrive. I got to pet her sweet head. We both got into a rhythm and we loved each other through all of it. Gotten to the point where she didn’t care how I held her. I wasn’t going to drop her. She let me pet her belly, her pads, between her toes. Let me, and loved it. Gotten to the point where taking her outside was routine, where sitting outside smoking a cigar and poking my phone with her on my lap was normal. Where I wasn’t looking to alter anything.
Humans suck. Though luckily this time I had already met the person who I have every intention of spending the rest of my life with. In fact likely without their support in the last few days I’d be more of a mess than I already am writing this. So once more into the boxes everything goes. Once more into the truck everything gets packed. Once more into the car goes a very unhappy Pixel, and a Tabitha, who I really should have let use the restroom beforehand. Yes, she pooped in the car. I don’t even blame her. Not now, and not then. Twelve hours of driving later, many stops, two Tabitha bathroom breaks, and I forget how many fuel stops because the box truck is petrol rather than diesel. We arrive in North Carolina.
Whole new outside to explore! So I take her. She loves the overlook by the park so she can watch the people walk past below. I spend plenty of time with her while I am looking for steady work. She finds a new fascination, lizards. Something we didn’t have up north. Something else we didn’t have up north... pollen! Her nose hates it! Eventually this leads her to her first vet trip when she’s sneezing so much she ruptures a blood vessel in her nose. It’s also the time I start noticing things about her that I don’t want to see. Matted fur. Unclean areas, patches of missing fur. I brush it all off to the back of my mind, frantically trying to do math as my memory for exact dates is terrible. Half a year in NC, plus two in IL, plus nearly a year in MI... okay that’s like, three and a half tops. Plus two in the shelter, plus three in the wild. Okay so eight? Nine years old? Ten max? Right? RIGHT?!? Healthy I know. Actively telling yourself one thing, granted based on what you’ve been lead to believe; all the while being so involved in this animal where your eyes and common sense are telling you the complete opposite.
Tabitha is old, and she’s not getting younger by you willing it so. She’s going to die soon.
I really do think this is what has lead to my recent depression and stress. I should be happy. Loving partner, that’s never been a question. Employment in my field. Non Stressful home life. Friends, family, support, you all reading this. So the round of antibiotics start. Some to clear up her sinus infection, which work. Some to clear up her digestive system thinking there may be a bug in there... which with all the garbage food she eats is possible. Seems to work. Some to clear up any potential parasites in side her. Well I have no idea if that worked but likely a very good idea considering her lifestyle so, yay? She gets better, gets her energy back, starts to actually gain weight for once in her life. Whoa slow down there fatty, gained a whole pound there. I am not fat shaming my cat... I’m elated she’s gaining any weight at this point. Attempting to push the nagging thoughts of her overall health further back into my brain. She’s social, still as adventurous as ever and has picked up a new thing to do. During the whole sinus infection scare, I would take her inside the bathroom when I was showering for steam reasons. Found out she doesn’t mind getting a bit wet. Since she wasn’t cleaning herself as much, which, I blamed on her being sick. I didn’t mind giving her a bit of a bath with a wash rag and a good dry afterwards. Don’t need to chill the already sick cat after all. Plus it made it easier to groom her afterwards to remove knots in her fur. Later would find out that she didn’t mind having the vacuum powered ‘dog hair brush’ we have laying around used on her either. Seriously this cat just didn’t care what happened so long as I was the one doing it with her.
Months pass, Tabitha seems to be doing better. Her right eye, which for as long as I’ve had her has always had gunk in it. Yes I know something I should have maybe had a professional take a look at sooner. Yet again adopted with a clean bill of health and it never bothered her; cleared up. Gaining weight, coat looks nice. As energetic as ever and social. Still loved to go outside. Loved to lay on the warm stone. Just ignore the FUCK out of her struggling to hop onto the bed at night. Yup, push that to the back of your brain. She’s fine! I swear! Just doesn’t know how to navigate with that extra weight on her. Ignore that she looks bloated sometimes. She’s still eating every morning and night. I can still touch her belly and it doesn’t bother her. Ignore the fact her muzzle is turning more white. Her ears are flopping over slightly.
Oh god.
It’s September now. Hurricane Florence is barreling down on the NC shoreline and making a right mess of anything not bolted down, or underwater. Pixel is hiding under the bed. He’s never been one for storms. On a whim I decide to take Tabs outside. It’s not raining yet. Or really windy. I mainly want to see her reaction to the massive sky full of fast moving clouds. Have her see something she’s likely never before. Just as ever she stands still when I’m putting her harness on. Attaching the leash. She makes her little curious chirp noise when I pick her up and head out the front door. ‘What are we doing today?’ I think it means. It takes but a few moments outside for her to look up, see the sky, howl at it in the voice I’ve grown to know as her ‘something isn’t right’ voice, and we head inside. Okay, fair enough. Cats know about storms and impending natural disasters. I’m not going to make her stay outside when she clearly doesn’t want to. The day passes, I head to bed earlier than I normally do. Aggravation on a video game. Tab’s isn’t on the bed... Or laying in her other favorite spot, the cat carrier. Or under the record stand. Or beside the bed. Or at the food bowl... Or... Is she actually scared of the storm? So I pop under the bed with my phone flashlight on. Find Pixel staring back at me from the darkness, which, figured. Look harder and find Tabitha staring back at me as well from inside the box springs. Unusual, but hey; it’s a massive storm blowing in on us. I’m not going to fault her for hiding. I’m scared as well. My first hurricane. So I tell her goodnight and snuggle into bed.
This is the line of reasoning I told myself at the time. I knew. I know I knew because I thought it. I thought it and instantly smashed it down with the largest mental hammer I could. So, when I woke up on the morning of the 15th of September, 2018; and Tabitha wasn’t standing next to me on the floor looking at me for breakfast.
I knew.
When she wasn’t coming to lay on my chest as I tried to pay attention to social media, or messaging apps, or even my partner coming in to see if I wanted to go to, well lunch at that point.
I knew.
When Tabitha didn’t come out to the food bowl when I filled it with fresh kibble that day.
I knew.
I knew exactly where I was going to find her. I knew that when I saw her limp form laying on the boxspring, crying, calling her name, she wasn’t going to look up. I tried for as long as I could to tell myself this wasn’t real. Tried to hold it together to find a proper flashlight. Tried to find a towel to lay her in. Laid there crying as I reached under the bed and told my baby girl how much she meant to me, trying to will it all away. Managing to find the strength to extract her from under the bed, covering her hindquarters as; nobody needs to see that’. Mainly I didn’t need to see that.
There she was. In my arms. I took a photo, knowing that if I didn’t I may wish I had later for whatever reason. My partner, his lunch abruptly cut short by my text and home by this point, went and found a box we could use to hold her remains. I choose to not lay her in it with her favorite blanket. Even though it seemed fitting. Call me selfish, but it’s about all I have of her now. Well, that I can physically touch. The arrangements made after a simple question; ‘What do you want done with her?’ I wished for cremation. Really more because I’m not leaving her in NC when we move. So I sat, and dampened her fur with my tears until he told me we need to go. Just like that, all I have left of my Tabitha, my Baby Girl. My Potato. My Cheese Thief. My Garbage Cat. My love, my adoration, my adventurer, my one of a kind, my companion, my solace, my... my cat. Is a tiny wooden box, a clipping of her fur. A lovely plaster impression of her front paws I was not expecting and broke me when I saw it... Pictures, and, well. This. My memories that I am attempting to keep somewhat alive, though truncated as I can only write so much. Oh, and the FUCKING MASSIVE HOLE in my chest that makes it hurt to breath, and causes me to just burst into tears.
I’m going to assume that Tabitha was quite a bit older than the shelter thought. I’m also aware that being a stray, being a mother, having a lifelong infection in her eye and digestive issues aren’t going to help her longevity. Do I wish I could have tossed money at vets to prolong it? Sure. Would that have increased her quality of life? I’m not sure. Would keeping her safe inside helped? Of course. Would I have wanted to stunt her spirit of ‘what’s over there!?!’ Never. Does it help me now? Does it ease the pain I’m feeling. Not even in the slightest. I’d give about anything to have one more day. One where I knew and could just pamper the shit out of her. Spend the whole day just holding her. Feeding her all the terrible things she loved to eat. Fuck it just binge eat that whole cheddar block.
I can’t, though. She went out on her own terms. She hid her failings well enough, and I ignored the signs of aging. That night she made sure to lay, not only on her favorite blanket when she did spend time with me in bed; but on my shoulder. She laid and got pet, and purred, and I went off to play games for a bit, and just... didn’t see her again till I poked my head under the bed to see where she was before the storm, and that’s that. That was goodbye. Sure it wasn’t nearly as attention grabbing as her hello those few short years ago. That was just her, at this point. She knew I knew, that was enough for her. I could go all existential and theorize that she knew I needed a companion though the darkest time of my life, carried me over and saw me to my current happyness with my partner. Then just, job done. I could try and wrap my head around it a dozen other ways. It’s just life though. She was an old cat, had a hard life, and I can be proud I gave her what I hope were the best years of it.
And I am going to miss you every day forward.
________________________________________________________________
Tabitha ‘Baby Girl’
Much Longer Ago than I Thought - 09/15/2018
Twenty five pounds of loving fluff and derp is currently trying to eviscerate what tattered remains hang limp on an untreated 4x4, formerly known as a feline scratching post. Sitting there watching this display of feline roulette between claws entering shreds of hemp rope, and the carpentry staples securing said rope, is what prompted me to suggest stopping by the local pet supply store on the way home from picking up my then significant other, from work. I’m sure Pixel’s paws would appreciate not being ripped open in the process of doing as cats do... and the current cat post is well beyond saving. I mean he had even managed to shred the short pile carpet covering the top and base. It is ultimately his destructive nature, granted never aimed at furniture or shower curtains, that lead to the best companion I could have ever asked for to enter my life for the next 4 years.
I lived at the time in Saline MI, a small town just south of Ann Arbor, having just moved there the previous month from my hometown of Chicago. Work related transfer, I wasn’t really complaining. I’m not going to even hint that the relationship I was in at the time was healthy, or that my job in life at the time was much more than being my SO’s taxi service. Getting out of the city, changing my surroundings, hoping things would get better. Seemed like a good thing at the time. Spoilers, they don’t. Though that will be a focus later on. Main point being, new town, new home, new challenges, my birthday is in a few days, or had just passed... I can’t rightly remember. There was more than a few inches of snow all over, this being March and all, and using practical reasoning was about all I could do to suggest maybe fixing the lack of scratchable material in the house before Pixel either hurts himself or turns to the upholstery was a good idea. Pixel is the silent cat behind the scenes, raised him since he was small enough to lay in between my arms whilst typing. The ‘runt’ of the litter I was told by the mutual friend which just ‘showed up one day’ to visit with a 5 month old kitten in her coat. Grew into the large framed, large pawed, large hearted loaf that sleeps on my side nearly every night now. So of course I don’t want to see him hurt himself catching a claw on a bit of staple. So my ‘maybe we should stop at <Midwest Brand Pet Store>’, turned into a ‘we are stopping’ further into the drive home. This delay in the decision caused us to stop at the store closer to home than my original intent of the one down the road from work. This would also make all the difference looking back.
So braving the snowy walk from the parking lot to the door we enter trying to find the ‘cat’ section. Which of course is in the far back corner of the store. You know, like the dairy section. Gotta make the patrons walk past all the tropical fish and reptiles to get their cat food. Well this particular store had another trick up its sleeve, making you walk right past the feline adoption center. Neat! Look at all the sad confused uncomfortable cats being displayed here from the local humane society. I have a large heart, left unchecked I could easily adopt a small herd of animals. However knowing reality is a thing, along with the crushing financial problems our household has. I am completely content to just keep walking past to the now visible replacement cat posts. Completely content to leave the number of felines already present in the household exactly the same as it was upon entering the store. Completely content to just walk over and pick out a new scratching post to alleviate-
*Thunk*
Huh, what a weird noise. Almost sounded like a very small skull bashing against a glass wind-
*Thunk*
Totally not going to turn and look. Totally not going to pay more attention to the, likely, adorable animal in the tiny cage to my lef-
*Thunk*
God damn it you are not making this easy.
*Thunk*
Fine! I’m going to look to acknowledge that you want attention so you stop hitting your head on the-
Oh. See now... What had happened was. I fucked up. I locked eyes with the most intense stare I’ve ever received by a being unable to communicate in a human language. It said nothing, and everything at the same time. There wasn’t ever a question. That moment on, I knew that this feline was coming home with me.
It’s rare in life to be chosen by a pet over choosing a pet. Molly was my mother’s cat from before I was born. Molly guarded me like I was her kitten and always sat on my lap every chance she had. Pumpkin was a hand off of a deceased relative, and always shy around humans. Orion and Twilight were shelter rescues my parents picked out. Monty the same. Mina was my SO’s cat. Even Pixel was kinda just, Surprise I have a kitten in my coat! I mean I’m not going to say that any of these bonds are any less special... Okay that’s a lie to myself and a massive slight against the derpfluff asleep on my bed in the other room. However that’s really the fact of the matter. I had this little tiny brown and black tabby colored cat and her big green eyes drilling holes into my face through tempered glass. Now how to I navigate the minefield that is our budget to appease this tiny creature. Oh what luck it’s still early enough that the shelter staff member is still on site and would love to show... What was her name?
Tabitha.
A first meet and greet. Her crawling all over my shoulders. Purring that I swore was going to rattle her teeth out. A shocked shelter worker as apparently Tabitha has never displayed such warmth before. Female, spayed, assumed age of four, five at the oldest. Vaccinated, microchipped, had a litter of kittens at some point. Chipped left incisor and small rip on her left ear. She got turned into the shelter by animal control, feral, where she spent the next two years bouncing around foster homes. Clean bill of health from their vet, weighed 4.2lbs (1.9kgs). Okay so what’s next? Paperwork, me leveraging my birthday to pry the adoption fee from our consistently empty bank account. Carrying the nervous, and voicing her opinion on that, Tabitha from the store back to our car in a cardboard cat caddy. Driving the short distance home and hoping that she’d integrate into the household well due to her shelter experience. Being around strange people and strange other felines in strange new places.
She did. All but five minutes after getting home does she find the blanket that would forever become hers and curled up... well inside it, kneading herself to a happy place. This would be the first indication of how calm this cat would be, about everything really. I mean sure, she still didn’t trust humans totally. I’ve always craved another lap cat after Molly passed away when I was much younger. I tried... she said no. Though she would always hang around my side of the room, whichever that was at the time. Sitting behind my computer monitors. Laying above my head at night. Attempting to follow me out into the garage, or down into the basement workshop. Attempting... Okay so why not. Sure I’ll open the door to this cold outside snow covered porch and see what y- Okay no! Nooo... no... I’m not sure I wanted you to just walk out and be okay with this. One mini sized dog harness and leash purchase later, try this again. I’m not going to say Tabitha wasn’t confused as all get out about this nylon, thing, I was stringing around her torso. Though she figured out fast enough that it wasn’t going to hinder her, and out she went into the foot high snow. For about ten minutes before a much colder and damper cat wanted to go back inside. I’ll give her so much credit. She wanted to see the whole damn perimeter of the house before leading me back inside.
I take it for granted now, I’m not even sure how surprised I was initially how naturally she seemed to be on a leash. Never pulled, tested her limits sure. How far I was willing to let her go into or under things. However if it was out in the open I never corrected her. I let her lead where she wanted to go, always. This cold tail end of winter day was the beginning of letting her be as adventurous as she wanted to be, and then some. So I’d start taking her outside more often. Carrying her into the seperate garage where I was working on restoring a classic Z. Letting her come downstairs into the unfinished basement while I worked on 3D printed wares... Always watching her of course to make sure she didn’t crawl up into the rafters, or poke her curious nose into something hazardous. To find that she just hung out near me. Even through the loud noises and sudden movements. Grinding of metal or sanding of plastic. Dropping a tool or dropping a subframe. Through the months I found that not only did I have to watch her less, she was also getting close and close to me inside the house. Three months or so after having rescued her from the shelter, she crawled on my lap one night while I was at the computer, and just would not leave. Oh. Okay. This is a thing now. And so it would be to the end. I had a little lap cat again, that despite her very small size and weight could still turn my legs numb way too quickly. I can say her large heart, but reality says leverage.
Spring had sprung, Outside walks were more frequent. The neighborhood dog walkers knew of me as I was starting to venture farther and farther from the house with her each time. Tabitha was learning that if she followed me, at least for a bit, we would end up someplace new before she would tug a direction so she could eat grass. Or whatever it was she enjoyed actually doing. It had also become apparent through the mistakes of, well eating... that Tabitha was interested in any and all things human food. Dairy, meats, vegetables, creams of any kind, hot or cold food. Food was food. Though cheese was by far her favorite. Didn’t matter what kind of cheese, she would violently attack the person eating it to get her ‘share’... by which I mean all of it. I mean it makes sense, her being a feral cat and all in her younger years. Trash cans provide food waste. Food waste provides hungry small feline with energy to not die. Pickiness over one’s palette goes out the window in that scenario. I don’t even blame her, rather encouraged it. Though to be fair I would always be trying to train her to ‘wait’... so I could feed her and myself at the same time over having to defend from her attack. Never did quite get her to listen on that one. So the games of ‘does Tabitha like X’ began. To this day the only things I can say she didn’t like to eat or drink is limited to; Soda/Beer carbonated drinks, carrots. Literally anything else you could conceivably think of she’d eat. Spicy, sour, salty, plain bread... She would. It’s by this point it’s no surprise that she had digestive issues from the day I got her.
More time passes. The front enclosed porch turns into a cat area. Cat trees, pillows, chairs for sitting. More importantly berry bushes bloom and attract an ungodly amount of small birds right next to the windows. I notice Tabs is starting to understand human speak more and more. Well outside the normal expected ‘food’ and ‘comere’. ‘Tabs I gotta get up’, for example had a different response than ‘Tabs I gotta use the restroom’; where as the first would cause her to wander off to do cat things, and the latter would have her sitting on my desk waiting for me to come back. ‘Tabs it’s bedtime’ would get her to make her way to the bedroom and lay down on her blanket, above my pillow. ‘Want some cheese Tabs?’ Was by far her favorite thing to hear. Now the reason I bring up the birds by the windows ties into this concept. Tabitha had learned what ‘bird’ means. Usually that I spot one before she does and she’ll scan the bushes looking. Spot it, and proceed to make the cat sound that roughly translates to ‘I’m going to eat the hell out of your corpse!’ I would however always point at the bird, which to be fair was usually in the bush outside the window. Until one day when it wasn’t. It was smack dab in the middle of the front path leading to the door of the sunroom turned cat haven. It’s a human instinct to point. To understand that we as humans understand that calling ‘Object Name’ means to follow the arm, see the finger pointing a direction. Realize that is in reference to the person’s point of view, follow said finger’s direction relative to where you are standing to the same direction as the object named to find where it is. It’s so second nature for us as humans that we don’t think of the complicated abstract reasoning that goes along behind it. Part of what makes humans human.
So I call ‘Bird!’ and point.
She scans the bushes as normal, yet doesn’t see one. Well I guess she trusts me, and I have never been one to toy with commands, crying wolf. So she flops her head over her shoulder and looks at me at first with a ‘what is this shit’ look, sees my dumb human ass pointing like I expect a cat to understand what that means... cept she follows my arm, and finger, and spots the offending avian far from the normal ‘spot’. Then proceeds to skullfuck the glass door screaming to get in her belly. This begins the skill she had of looking where I was pointing first when I called something, specifically food or prey related. To this day the fact she understands what ‘pointing’ means both terrifies me, and makes me so proud. It also lead directly to the death of more than one bird, and a plethora of rodents. I never let her eat them, or well at least the ones I knew about. Mainly because I didn’t want her catching whatever parasite or virus they could be carrying. She was content enough getting to hunt again. Call me terrible, but at least I can say I sport hunted finches with my cat.
Humans suck. It’s winter again. It’s been ten months since moving from Chicago. In that time I’ve been through some very dark places. Learned things about my supposed life partner and then Fiancee I had suspected for a good while, yet now have been forced to face head on. I’m not writing this to smear anyone, just... setting the scene. There have been many a night around this time where the only reason I didn’t end myself was the single thought; ‘Who’s Tab’s going to have then?’. Who’s she going to rely on for comfort. Who’s she going to see and know that no matter what’s happening around her, everything is fine. It’s all good so long as I’m there. Cause that’s what it was. That’s what I had figured out by then. All the crazy shit both of us did. It all boiled down to her always checking to make sure I was close by, and if I was she was chill about it. Car rides, firework noises, thunder, strange new places, strange new cat that my fiance just brought home one day that for whatever reason thought Tabs was his personal toy to chase about mercilessly until she took refuge on my lap. I can never thank her enough for being that light. Sometimes that’s all it takes.
A month later and with the help of friends and family, many long nights trying to parse a reality back together that wasn’t based upon lies and deceit. A moving van, trailer, one very not happy Pixel and one sleeping on the passenger's seat Tabitha. I left the last eight years of my life behind. I’d like to say that things got better magically afterwards. No, but they were nowhere as close to as bad as they were. Back home in Chicago, oh look new job in an industry I love. Oh sweet coming out to be truthful to who I am and what I am. Oh nice all the old friends around again and doing things on weekends. Yet always coming home to Tabs sitting on the same spot by the door. Welcoming me home.
We explored the hell out of the local parks. Well... except the dog park. This is the point I tried kayaking with her. Okay yes, I mean. It’s water right? Cats hate water. I mean sure I only did it once. Sure she was none too plussed with being wet from paddle splash. However she did eat the heck out of that grass when we stopped, after I toweled her off. Worth it.
The next two years passed much too quickly now. Tabitha got to see me embrace who I am today. She got to see me come to peace with the ‘what once was’ with my previous relationship. She was there through all the tough nights, and good nights. The long gaming sessions with her purring away on my lap. The cold winter nights burritoed above my head in her blanket. The summer days out wandering the front yard, or the park a few blocks away. She got to miss me while I was away at events and gatherings. She got to welcome me back home afterwards. She got to sit on my shoulders, or above my neck on my chair back. She got to lay on all the firearms while I was cleaning them. She got to lay on all the range bags. I got to set her up another bird spot, and watch her bonk her head off the glass attempting to catch them. So smart... yet glass defeated her intellect once instinct took over. She got to see me recover and start to thrive. I got to pet her sweet head. We both got into a rhythm and we loved each other through all of it. Gotten to the point where she didn’t care how I held her. I wasn’t going to drop her. She let me pet her belly, her pads, between her toes. Let me, and loved it. Gotten to the point where taking her outside was routine, where sitting outside smoking a cigar and poking my phone with her on my lap was normal. Where I wasn’t looking to alter anything.
Humans suck. Though luckily this time I had already met the person who I have every intention of spending the rest of my life with. In fact likely without their support in the last few days I’d be more of a mess than I already am writing this. So once more into the boxes everything goes. Once more into the truck everything gets packed. Once more into the car goes a very unhappy Pixel, and a Tabitha, who I really should have let use the restroom beforehand. Yes, she pooped in the car. I don’t even blame her. Not now, and not then. Twelve hours of driving later, many stops, two Tabitha bathroom breaks, and I forget how many fuel stops because the box truck is petrol rather than diesel. We arrive in North Carolina.
Whole new outside to explore! So I take her. She loves the overlook by the park so she can watch the people walk past below. I spend plenty of time with her while I am looking for steady work. She finds a new fascination, lizards. Something we didn’t have up north. Something else we didn’t have up north... pollen! Her nose hates it! Eventually this leads her to her first vet trip when she’s sneezing so much she ruptures a blood vessel in her nose. It’s also the time I start noticing things about her that I don’t want to see. Matted fur. Unclean areas, patches of missing fur. I brush it all off to the back of my mind, frantically trying to do math as my memory for exact dates is terrible. Half a year in NC, plus two in IL, plus nearly a year in MI... okay that’s like, three and a half tops. Plus two in the shelter, plus three in the wild. Okay so eight? Nine years old? Ten max? Right? RIGHT?!? Healthy I know. Actively telling yourself one thing, granted based on what you’ve been lead to believe; all the while being so involved in this animal where your eyes and common sense are telling you the complete opposite.
Tabitha is old, and she’s not getting younger by you willing it so. She’s going to die soon.
I really do think this is what has lead to my recent depression and stress. I should be happy. Loving partner, that’s never been a question. Employment in my field. Non Stressful home life. Friends, family, support, you all reading this. So the round of antibiotics start. Some to clear up her sinus infection, which work. Some to clear up her digestive system thinking there may be a bug in there... which with all the garbage food she eats is possible. Seems to work. Some to clear up any potential parasites in side her. Well I have no idea if that worked but likely a very good idea considering her lifestyle so, yay? She gets better, gets her energy back, starts to actually gain weight for once in her life. Whoa slow down there fatty, gained a whole pound there. I am not fat shaming my cat... I’m elated she’s gaining any weight at this point. Attempting to push the nagging thoughts of her overall health further back into my brain. She’s social, still as adventurous as ever and has picked up a new thing to do. During the whole sinus infection scare, I would take her inside the bathroom when I was showering for steam reasons. Found out she doesn’t mind getting a bit wet. Since she wasn’t cleaning herself as much, which, I blamed on her being sick. I didn’t mind giving her a bit of a bath with a wash rag and a good dry afterwards. Don’t need to chill the already sick cat after all. Plus it made it easier to groom her afterwards to remove knots in her fur. Later would find out that she didn’t mind having the vacuum powered ‘dog hair brush’ we have laying around used on her either. Seriously this cat just didn’t care what happened so long as I was the one doing it with her.
Months pass, Tabitha seems to be doing better. Her right eye, which for as long as I’ve had her has always had gunk in it. Yes I know something I should have maybe had a professional take a look at sooner. Yet again adopted with a clean bill of health and it never bothered her; cleared up. Gaining weight, coat looks nice. As energetic as ever and social. Still loved to go outside. Loved to lay on the warm stone. Just ignore the FUCK out of her struggling to hop onto the bed at night. Yup, push that to the back of your brain. She’s fine! I swear! Just doesn’t know how to navigate with that extra weight on her. Ignore that she looks bloated sometimes. She’s still eating every morning and night. I can still touch her belly and it doesn’t bother her. Ignore the fact her muzzle is turning more white. Her ears are flopping over slightly.
Oh god.
It’s September now. Hurricane Florence is barreling down on the NC shoreline and making a right mess of anything not bolted down, or underwater. Pixel is hiding under the bed. He’s never been one for storms. On a whim I decide to take Tabs outside. It’s not raining yet. Or really windy. I mainly want to see her reaction to the massive sky full of fast moving clouds. Have her see something she’s likely never before. Just as ever she stands still when I’m putting her harness on. Attaching the leash. She makes her little curious chirp noise when I pick her up and head out the front door. ‘What are we doing today?’ I think it means. It takes but a few moments outside for her to look up, see the sky, howl at it in the voice I’ve grown to know as her ‘something isn’t right’ voice, and we head inside. Okay, fair enough. Cats know about storms and impending natural disasters. I’m not going to make her stay outside when she clearly doesn’t want to. The day passes, I head to bed earlier than I normally do. Aggravation on a video game. Tab’s isn’t on the bed... Or laying in her other favorite spot, the cat carrier. Or under the record stand. Or beside the bed. Or at the food bowl... Or... Is she actually scared of the storm? So I pop under the bed with my phone flashlight on. Find Pixel staring back at me from the darkness, which, figured. Look harder and find Tabitha staring back at me as well from inside the box springs. Unusual, but hey; it’s a massive storm blowing in on us. I’m not going to fault her for hiding. I’m scared as well. My first hurricane. So I tell her goodnight and snuggle into bed.
This is the line of reasoning I told myself at the time. I knew. I know I knew because I thought it. I thought it and instantly smashed it down with the largest mental hammer I could. So, when I woke up on the morning of the 15th of September, 2018; and Tabitha wasn’t standing next to me on the floor looking at me for breakfast.
I knew.
When she wasn’t coming to lay on my chest as I tried to pay attention to social media, or messaging apps, or even my partner coming in to see if I wanted to go to, well lunch at that point.
I knew.
When Tabitha didn’t come out to the food bowl when I filled it with fresh kibble that day.
I knew.
I knew exactly where I was going to find her. I knew that when I saw her limp form laying on the boxspring, crying, calling her name, she wasn’t going to look up. I tried for as long as I could to tell myself this wasn’t real. Tried to hold it together to find a proper flashlight. Tried to find a towel to lay her in. Laid there crying as I reached under the bed and told my baby girl how much she meant to me, trying to will it all away. Managing to find the strength to extract her from under the bed, covering her hindquarters as; nobody needs to see that’. Mainly I didn’t need to see that.
There she was. In my arms. I took a photo, knowing that if I didn’t I may wish I had later for whatever reason. My partner, his lunch abruptly cut short by my text and home by this point, went and found a box we could use to hold her remains. I choose to not lay her in it with her favorite blanket. Even though it seemed fitting. Call me selfish, but it’s about all I have of her now. Well, that I can physically touch. The arrangements made after a simple question; ‘What do you want done with her?’ I wished for cremation. Really more because I’m not leaving her in NC when we move. So I sat, and dampened her fur with my tears until he told me we need to go. Just like that, all I have left of my Tabitha, my Baby Girl. My Potato. My Cheese Thief. My Garbage Cat. My love, my adoration, my adventurer, my one of a kind, my companion, my solace, my... my cat. Is a tiny wooden box, a clipping of her fur. A lovely plaster impression of her front paws I was not expecting and broke me when I saw it... Pictures, and, well. This. My memories that I am attempting to keep somewhat alive, though truncated as I can only write so much. Oh, and the FUCKING MASSIVE HOLE in my chest that makes it hurt to breath, and causes me to just burst into tears.
I’m going to assume that Tabitha was quite a bit older than the shelter thought. I’m also aware that being a stray, being a mother, having a lifelong infection in her eye and digestive issues aren’t going to help her longevity. Do I wish I could have tossed money at vets to prolong it? Sure. Would that have increased her quality of life? I’m not sure. Would keeping her safe inside helped? Of course. Would I have wanted to stunt her spirit of ‘what’s over there!?!’ Never. Does it help me now? Does it ease the pain I’m feeling. Not even in the slightest. I’d give about anything to have one more day. One where I knew and could just pamper the shit out of her. Spend the whole day just holding her. Feeding her all the terrible things she loved to eat. Fuck it just binge eat that whole cheddar block.
I can’t, though. She went out on her own terms. She hid her failings well enough, and I ignored the signs of aging. That night she made sure to lay, not only on her favorite blanket when she did spend time with me in bed; but on my shoulder. She laid and got pet, and purred, and I went off to play games for a bit, and just... didn’t see her again till I poked my head under the bed to see where she was before the storm, and that’s that. That was goodbye. Sure it wasn’t nearly as attention grabbing as her hello those few short years ago. That was just her, at this point. She knew I knew, that was enough for her. I could go all existential and theorize that she knew I needed a companion though the darkest time of my life, carried me over and saw me to my current happyness with my partner. Then just, job done. I could try and wrap my head around it a dozen other ways. It’s just life though. She was an old cat, had a hard life, and I can be proud I gave her what I hope were the best years of it.
And I am going to miss you every day forward.
Category Story / Animal related (non-anthro)
Species Housecat
Size 854 x 1280px
File Size 300.1 kB
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