Our darling Johnny, Tri-Pawed, Long John Charcoal, Twitticus, Fuzzy, Silly-Cat died last night. He got sick sometime Sunday night, just kept getting worse and worse. We took him to the vet, who suspected FIP (a fatal cat virus) and did blood tests to that effect; but it turned out not to be that, so today she was going to do an ultrasound to see what it might be. But he just quietly slipped away sometime in the night.
In a sense, I’m glad it’s over – these last few days have been stressful, to say the least. Because, you see, we loved that cat. He was really special. It might sound like playing favourites, but – okay, it’s playing favourites. Cats are not children, who depend on your love for their wellbeing, so I don’t feel a smidgen of guilt for loving one special cat more than, perhaps, another.
And it really is that, love, I mean. Johnny was a wonderful cat – affectionate, cute, funny, a little silly, quite vocal (purr, rumble, chirp, coo, squeak, purrrrr…), and all around great to have as a part of our family. We’re so glad we brought him home from the SPCA, that October day four years ago (you can read that story here). Having him around has given us so much pleasure, so much love.
And the price for that is the pain of having to say goodbye. The more you love, the more it hurts to let go. But it’s worth it – loving is worth every single tear it costs.
So, early this morning, as the sun rose over the hills, I put Johnny in a box and ran my hands one more time over his thick, velvety black fur.
Goodbye, darling Johnny. I’m so very grateful for the love we got to experience because of you.
