Be at Rest
Well, I haven't posted in about two weeks and today I have felt compelled to put in a new entry. My family was here for a few days and my birthday has been celebrated. I am 21. I don't feel older. I feel younger.
My mother called me today. She told me that our cat, Cookie, has lost control of her bowel movements and shit all over the bed while they were gone. It is not the first instance. My mom told me that Cookie would be put to sleep today. As I type this I am rather sure Cookie is no longer in the world of the living. Cookie died on August 1st of the year 2005. The age that she died at would be approximately 21. Her age will always remain slightly unknown to me. Nobody knows when she was born
I don't know why, but I believe that Cookie is the only creature that has ever understood me. It's not like we spent a lot of time together. I was the care-taker of the cats when I lived at my house and college years have been depressing without a feline around. I have lived around cats all my life. Cookie is the only pet that has been there since I can remember. Now she is gone. Simple as that.
Cookie lived a life longer than most cats I have ever heard of. She wasn't what I would call a happy cat and she was rather depressed for many years when our family decided we wanted to start owning a dog. Cookie lived in our basement and rarely came upstairs for 3 years. I was normally the only one she saw every day and only for a few minutes when it was feeding time. I remember getting in a lot of fights with my family about getting rid of the dog because Cookie didn't deserve to live like a refugee. For the past year or so Cookie has finally gotten used to the canine living in the house and has been out and about quite a bit more. Whenever I was home from school I would feed it a saucer of milk almost every day. My family would tell me it was bad for cats to drink a lot of milk. I told them it didn't matter because Cookie was on her way out of the world. Dying cats deserve something that makes them happy.
It seems like that cat has been staring death in the face for a very long time. The impending doom seemed to have lingered for so long that I started thinking the cat was immortal. Now here I am, all alone in Marquette, trying to realize that I won't be able to see my cat the next time I visit home. I guess I don't know what to think. There won't ever be another cat like her. I'll never again feel the spiritual sensation that I believe I only attained from petting that cat all alone in the basement. I don't know what sort of bond that we shared, but I know that I may feel Cookie's presence in my soul forever. I still have memories. There is an imprint left behind, no matter how miniscule.
Cookie's visit to the Vet was horrible. She hates cars. She always has. Whenever we have taken her to the vet in the past she would shit all over her cage (we had to keep her in a cage or it would be worse). On the way to be put down she made a mess of Curt and, from what I hear, it was a disaster. I wish I wouldn't have heard anything of it at all. But I'm sure my guessing would make me feel bad enough. I wish some stranger wouldn't be the one to kill my cat, but I don't know of any other options anyhow. A slave to the system is one that won't do things himself. I won't kill Cookie myself. I have had a few pet-traumas in my days and I will take this one with stride. I know I will encounter similar traumas in the future and that is life. Everyone that owns pets learns what it is like to lose them (and, perhaps, in many different ways).
My cat's death reminds me of a chapter I read in a Vonegut book today. The book "Mother Night" had a chapter where the main character went to kill a very old dog that was on a 'wartime diet' and was skinny and shabby. He didn't really know the dog. He just shot him in the back of the head (as he was asked to do). The dog didn't feel anything, niether did the killer. It was just another act of violence (he was a Nazi soldier). Well, this chapter parallels Cookie's situation rather well. She was very old and was not in good health. The vet will kill her. niether one will feel anything. It's just like in the book. Perhaps I was reading it while Cookie died? It's not so foolish to think such things. Thus is the way that life is intertwined.
Cookie, a part of my life, a connection to my memories. A cat that lived long. There is no part of my past that she wasn't there. It's different to lose something that has always been there than to lose something that hasn't. It seems more important. It seems like a part of my past is gone. Or that a part of my life is changed. I have to change the way I live because Cookie is gone.
All I know is that the end is only a new beginning. This end is a new beginning for both of us, I am sure.
My mother called me today. She told me that our cat, Cookie, has lost control of her bowel movements and shit all over the bed while they were gone. It is not the first instance. My mom told me that Cookie would be put to sleep today. As I type this I am rather sure Cookie is no longer in the world of the living. Cookie died on August 1st of the year 2005. The age that she died at would be approximately 21. Her age will always remain slightly unknown to me. Nobody knows when she was born
I don't know why, but I believe that Cookie is the only creature that has ever understood me. It's not like we spent a lot of time together. I was the care-taker of the cats when I lived at my house and college years have been depressing without a feline around. I have lived around cats all my life. Cookie is the only pet that has been there since I can remember. Now she is gone. Simple as that.
Cookie lived a life longer than most cats I have ever heard of. She wasn't what I would call a happy cat and she was rather depressed for many years when our family decided we wanted to start owning a dog. Cookie lived in our basement and rarely came upstairs for 3 years. I was normally the only one she saw every day and only for a few minutes when it was feeding time. I remember getting in a lot of fights with my family about getting rid of the dog because Cookie didn't deserve to live like a refugee. For the past year or so Cookie has finally gotten used to the canine living in the house and has been out and about quite a bit more. Whenever I was home from school I would feed it a saucer of milk almost every day. My family would tell me it was bad for cats to drink a lot of milk. I told them it didn't matter because Cookie was on her way out of the world. Dying cats deserve something that makes them happy.
It seems like that cat has been staring death in the face for a very long time. The impending doom seemed to have lingered for so long that I started thinking the cat was immortal. Now here I am, all alone in Marquette, trying to realize that I won't be able to see my cat the next time I visit home. I guess I don't know what to think. There won't ever be another cat like her. I'll never again feel the spiritual sensation that I believe I only attained from petting that cat all alone in the basement. I don't know what sort of bond that we shared, but I know that I may feel Cookie's presence in my soul forever. I still have memories. There is an imprint left behind, no matter how miniscule.
Cookie's visit to the Vet was horrible. She hates cars. She always has. Whenever we have taken her to the vet in the past she would shit all over her cage (we had to keep her in a cage or it would be worse). On the way to be put down she made a mess of Curt and, from what I hear, it was a disaster. I wish I wouldn't have heard anything of it at all. But I'm sure my guessing would make me feel bad enough. I wish some stranger wouldn't be the one to kill my cat, but I don't know of any other options anyhow. A slave to the system is one that won't do things himself. I won't kill Cookie myself. I have had a few pet-traumas in my days and I will take this one with stride. I know I will encounter similar traumas in the future and that is life. Everyone that owns pets learns what it is like to lose them (and, perhaps, in many different ways).
My cat's death reminds me of a chapter I read in a Vonegut book today. The book "Mother Night" had a chapter where the main character went to kill a very old dog that was on a 'wartime diet' and was skinny and shabby. He didn't really know the dog. He just shot him in the back of the head (as he was asked to do). The dog didn't feel anything, niether did the killer. It was just another act of violence (he was a Nazi soldier). Well, this chapter parallels Cookie's situation rather well. She was very old and was not in good health. The vet will kill her. niether one will feel anything. It's just like in the book. Perhaps I was reading it while Cookie died? It's not so foolish to think such things. Thus is the way that life is intertwined.
Cookie, a part of my life, a connection to my memories. A cat that lived long. There is no part of my past that she wasn't there. It's different to lose something that has always been there than to lose something that hasn't. It seems more important. It seems like a part of my past is gone. Or that a part of my life is changed. I have to change the way I live because Cookie is gone.
All I know is that the end is only a new beginning. This end is a new beginning for both of us, I am sure.
posted by Dylan Watkins at 23:57
3 Comments:
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I hope you know I almost cried reading that.
yes, me too. this is the saddest thing i have ever read or heard in my life. i love my dog.
Dylan, that really sucks... my cay died a few years back but we had her since before i was born so she was always there and in almost every picture taken of me at home.... i hopeeverything works out for you, and i know it will...just remember, you and that cat loved each other and as long as you with with it, it was happy
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