A few days ago our cat Yiminy died. A month ago he stopped eating much and after a few visits to the vet, fluid was found around his heart, and we left with a handful of prescriptions and a tear-inducing prognosis.
It is difficult to explain exactly how Yim-boy was so much more than your average household pet. He wasn’t a typical cat that loved you when it was convenient for him. He’d come when you’d call him. He ran to meet to us at the door every blessed time we came home. He knew what you meant when we said “turkey”. He loved you when it was convenient for you.
He was different things to each of us, and more. To Michelle, he was her snuggle buddy. To Jovie, he was a fixture she grew up with and loved her entire life. To me (Dad), he was my best buddy.
He slowed down his last few weeks but he was still so eager to please. He couldn’t meet us at the door any more. Instead he’d position himself in the living room so he could see us as we came in and raise his head and look at us eagerly to greet him. His last days were spent with him in the living room, surrounding him with the only thing he wanted in life.
Now that he’s gone, our home has a heart aching emptiness. Routine tasks we’ve done for 14 years no longer need to be done. We catch ourselves unnecessarily going to the door to see if he wants to come in. Movement is caught from the corner of eyes, thinking it’s him, only to be quickly reminded of the loneliness that is now within each of us.
As we all struggle to accept his loss, we try to remind ourselves of the happiness he brought to us for so many years.
He was a good boy.