I just wanted to tell the story of my beloved guardian cat. He came to me from the top of a house, having been born in the roof along with his siblings. He was a small cat, nothing too special to look at; that was until he looked at you. His eyes were as blue as the sky on a clear day at noon. At first he was shy, living in a house for the first time, and with people was a bit much for him in the beginning--so of course he was scared. He gradually grew nearer to me, he would find me upstairs reading or napping and he thus grew more and more attached to me. I began to fall for him as well. I've never had a cat before, never been exposed to them for longer than a few hours upon visiting friends or family; so my experience of them and knowledge was quite limited. He of course--not knowing this was unconditionally loving and accepting of me, and me alone. He would lavish all of his attention on me, like a beloved friend, a caring family member or an innocent child; free and loving with out condition. And for that i loved him back, just as hard.
I like to say that we grew together, we grew close, we grew up, together we had grown in so many ways that our relationship grew and became so beautiful that every person had to take notice. We spent every minute together, but when he wanted to wander, i would never hold him back. I could never smother him because i loved him so much. I remember one summer i had decided to take a small vacation for a week away and i had to leave him home. I was scared to leave him as i had been spending all of my time with him. I was concerned through out the whole vacation, wondering about his welfare at night before i would fall asleep on the floor of a tent, or on the strange bed of some hotel room. Upon my returning home, i learned that he had missed me so much, he had decided to search for me and had gotten outside and on to the roof of the house. He came back just prior to my arrival home. I never scolded him, only loved him more. A few years had gone by and we moved into a new house, since then he had on occasion gotten brave and decided he wanted to venture outdoors. He never made it far of course, being that he was a 'soft' cat. I always managed to find him, after frantic searching, many tears and much heart ache. Our reunions were always sweet and never without concern for one another.
Once into the new house, he adventured through out his new accommodations, wandering here and there, sniffing and taking interest in new sights, sounds and scents. He would always return to me though, and that is how it has always been; where ever one of us is, the other is sure to be close behind.
It was about Christmas time and the decorations were hung, presents were under the tree--delicate wrappings, ribbons and bows. He enjoyed sitting under the tree, he was my little present, i have many pictures of him in these candid moments. It's as if he did these things just for me. Toting junk in his mouth to me as if it was an ancient treasure he had unearthed from some hidden place. The sparkle in his eyes when he would give these things to me, as if he was bursting with pride and joy. I laughed so hard i would cry; he was magnificent. On this occasion though, being as it was Christmas day and everyone had opened their presents--he of course had opened up his too. I went upstairs and attempted to relax having gotten up so early. I heard him coming up the stairs, he gently pushed open the door and to my utter astonishment and surprise, he had found the largest most grandiose golden bow and had carried it up the stairs to me, as if it were made of real gold! I was so proud, so happy and full of joy that i wept. I wept at the beautiful character that he was.
It was small moments like these that i enjoyed the most and remember always. As the year went on, nothing had changed, save for a small cough my little man had started to develop. At first i was concerned, i watched him cautiously, always monitoring him and making sure he would be alright. I allowed myself to believe for a time what every one had been telling me, that he was just coughing up hair, there was nothing more to it than that. So i rested uneasily in that unsurity, knowing that i wasn't a vet and i certainly couldn't diagnose him myself. But as time went on i couldn't deny it any longer. His cough became more frequent, his lustrous white coat became shaggy and without shine. His beautiful majestic blue eyes never faded, but as i helplessly watched him slowly starve, a part of me went with him. It was a year in total, and the last 6 months were the hardest. He lost interest in playing with me, lost his desire to do anything but wheeze and sleep. I knew he was suffering, but i was so caught as to what i should do. Meanwhile everyone around me was yet again assuring me that it was nothing. I believe not in the good will of humans, but believe always in the kindness and good will of animals. He would look at me with his shining blue eyes, begging me, pleading to me to make it stop. I could almost hear his voice in my mind as i looked into those haunting all knowing eyes; the same eyes that taught me of life, love and pure joy. Until finally, i came home one day, an occasion not unlike any other to see that my beloved cat had been lying in the window sill, warmed by the hot rays of the sun, i look in at him and we connected eyes, i knew deep down that moment that this was the last time i would ever look into those eyes and see the love that was there for me. As he got up, walked down the stairs he stumbled, and fell to the ground. I was so ashamed that i had let this beautiful and caring animal go in such a way. To this day i wish that i had gone with him, and i believe whole-heartedly that a part of me did go that day. I gently picked him up, put him in a blanket, soothed him and prayed for a miracle; a miracle that would never come. The vet office was closed, but we were the only three in there. Myself, the doctor and my sweet guardian cat. I spent his last minutes crying heavily, holding him and petting him, speaking gently into his ear. The doctor assured me there was nothing that he could do other than make him comfortable and ease him into death. I looked at him and some unconscious will inside of me gave me the strength, knowing that this was what he wanted--i said yes, and began to say my good-byes.
I don't know how you say good-bye to someone you love so much, let alone someone who taught you to love. I choose not to remember him in his pain filled times, but remember him in the moments we shared that brought us together, and kept us so close. I've never loved so hard, and that was how i knew that it was good. That he was good, and that a part of him is with me, and me with him.
The doctor brought him back in after administering the lethal injection. I looked into his fading eyes, held his limp body and stroked his gentle paw for the final time. He was so beautiful, even in passing--filled with grace and kindness, flicking his tail gently even into the end.
I will forever remember him, as i would remember a great inspiring teacher, a best friend, or a sweet lover. He was everything to me, even things i couldn't put into words.
So when i hear someone making fun of cat lovers, making jest of someone who cares for a cat, maybe in the same way that i did, i scold them, even if I don't know them.
There are few things of worth in this world, save for the greatness of cats.

Tubs (2002-2007)