I don't even know how to start this.
My cat has cancer. She is going to die.
Just seeing the words outside of my head is enough to make me sick.
Is it strange that I feel so strongly about this? After all, it's not like she is human. Even so, she is a part of my family. I love her and I don't want to let her go. She's my baby.
I was six years old when we went to the shelter to pick out a kitten. I immediately thought she was the cutest thing I'd ever seen. She had the smallest nose, half black and half white. She was mine as soon as I saw her.
We picked her up and brought her home. For a while, she was so small and scared of us that she hid inside my father's shoes -- shoes that even to me at the time seemed so large. I can't remember everything from that time, but I can remember how she would come out at night sometimes, softly mewing. And I can remember how I had to reach down and lift her up to cuddle with me on my bed.
She grew up, and she began to fit into our family as though she really were a person. Looking back, I guess it was completely appropriate that I named her Emily, a person's name, and not a typical pet-name like Fluffy. She had this special personality that made us laugh at her and love her. If we went away on vacation for a week, when we got back she would actually pout and make sure we all knew she had felt abandoned. She would sit on the sofa, blocking our view of the TV, every now and again glancing back at us with a sly look and a flick of her tail. But then she would come around and let us pet her again. If I was sick or sad, she knew it -- she would come over to me and sit by my head, purring and licking my hand.
Eventually, I no longer needed a night-light, because hearing her purring and feeling her warm body under my arm would help me to fall asleep. It was easier to drift into dreams when I knew I wasn't alone in the dark.
I have had her for 13 years. She's been here with me for my entire life. I knew that she was getting older, but I figured she had at least a few more years left, not a few months, if that. I'm not ready to say goodbye. I keep trying to hold in my tears, and my stomach feels tight and it's difficult for me to eat. But I force myself to do both. I knew she would be gone some day, but I never thought that day would come so suddenly... so soon. I guess it doesn't matter -- no matter when that day came it would always seem too sudden, too soon.
I don't have any experience with this. I try to look at the situation from a detatched point of view. Distance is safe. But then something as small as the sound of the bell on my bracelet reminds me of the bell on her collar, tinkling around her little neck as she would come running toward my voice as I called her, and the wave of sorrow hits me again.
How am I supposed to feel like I'm really home when she isn't there by the door to greet me as I walk into the house?
Why do my arms ache so much?
