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An ode to dear kitty Feather [1]

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Date: 2024-06-11  

Just a personal reflection today, no politics or opinion. Other than my cat Feather was the best in the world (for me). Yesterday afternoon after coming home from work I saw that Feather’s food hadn’t been touched and I hadn’t seen him in the past day. And Feather not coming to say hi to me was rare indeed. I was Feather’s human. And so I stepped outside to find him lying by the back steps.

I knew something was wrong right away. He barely moved as I came out. I got down next to him to say hi and he didn’t even turn his head. I carefully tried to pick him up and it became quickly clear he couldn’t support himself. So I let him rest and pet him, talking to him softly. He recognized me with a big purr, and the tiniest of head movements.

I went and got some water but he wasn’t interested, and that is after being out all night and all day. I knew then it was his time. He was 15 years old, and had been battling kidney disease. He had come back to say goodbye.

I called the vet to confer about euthanizing, but I ended up choosing to let Feather stay at home. He had found a wonderful spot in the sun and didn’t appear to be in pain. Why traumatize him with the travel and a place he really didn’t like?

I got a little grumpy with my 9 year old when he interrupted my phone call with the vet to tell a joke. It wasn’t my son’s fault of course, and I immediately apologized. And then I asked him to come outside with me to say goodbye to Feather. After I explained what was going on he got to say his goodbyes. Feather, being older, had been with my son my son’s entire life. He doesn’t know a world without Feather until today. And he truthfully wasn’t always so into the cat. But in the last year or two he had taken a much deeper interest in Feather and cared for Feather deeply.

The world being what it is, and not knowing how long Feather had, my son did choose to go to his brand new soccer team for his first ever practice. My wife said her goodbyes to Feather and took our son to the field. It was the three year old and I at home. We tried to get another family member to be with my daughter so I could focus on Feather, but there simply wasn’t time. From my finding him to this point was all of 30 minutes. So I let my daughter watch more screens than I should have. I sat in the doorway so she could see me and I could see Feather.

Feather enjoying the sun one last time.

I had tried to pick up and hold Feather to comfort him which he allowed for a couple minutes but he moved out of my arms. I decided to let him make his own choices here. He declined the blanket I brought out as well as the box top (not a high edge to it, the top of a banker’s box). More of a suggestion of a box but something he could get over if he chose to.

I told him I loved him so many times. I told him I’m sorry. I told him I hoped I was doing the best for him in the moment. And I told him goodbye.

My daughter got sick of the screens and came out to play. I didn’t have the heart to tell her what was going on. But being the bright girl that she is she noticed the cat looked sick. I merely acknowledged her statement and agreed with her. My wife had offered to be the point person on this conversation, so I was waiting till her and my son came home.

So my daughter started playing in the sand box and eventually got me into a game of “her bringing me to preschool”. She made me a lunch (plastic box with sand in it) and had me come to the big stump in the front yard. Feather at this point was not even responding to me with a purr, but I could see him breathing. I told him I was just over here and would be back shortly. As I thought about Feather I was eating a sand lunch and being told to nap by the most wonderful 3 year old I know.

I went back to check on Feather as often as I could pry myself away from the school stump. He had a few coughs, and I went over to him. And I said my final goodbye. I don’t know exactly when he passed but the next thing I knew his body was shaking with the onset of rigor mortis. I cried throughout all of this as I am crying as I write this.

I called my wife and she came home and I went out to our son’s soccer practice. It allowed me a few moments to myself without pretending to be eating sand. I caught the tail end of practice and saw my son running his but off, practicing as a forward. Practice ended, I thanked the coach, and we went back to the car. On the way I told him that Feather had passed.

When we got home I did something I had never had cause to do before, which is dig a grave. I’ve put dirt on top at funerals before, but I’ve never been the one to dig the hole. And I’ve never been the one to lift a body up and cover it in a sheet. And I’ve never been the one to lower it into the grave.

I’ve been thinking a lot about death over the past two years. It’s sort of unavoidable writing so much about Ukraine. I’ve lost loved ones before. I gave my father’s eulogy. Yet it never gets easier, even for a pet. My Father and whole family are obviously more important to me than a pet, but I still feel a loss. Feather will never walk into the house, give his cry out to ask where I was, and come over and snuggle up next to me. And it happened so quick.

I have children, so my thinking about death often centers around them and my wife. This thinking isn’t a despair or depression type thing but a philosophical pondering. A vain attempt to have it make more sense. A way to remind myself what so many people around the world are experiencing in too many brutal ways. And of course my mind protects me by not letting it feel too personal. My writing this today is part of that process and a part of my own grieving. If we don’t end up cooking our planet and preserve (for some odd reason) our internet history, Feather’s image may go on.

Feather was such a sweet cat. While I was his human, he was very friendly with other people if they were calm and quiet. I don’t remember him ever scratching in anger. He did give out a few scratches but they were generally accidents. Like if I was holding him and a loud nose suddenly scared him, I’d end up with several lines all over the place as he sought to hide. And then there were those times when he’d go to jump on to my lap and not quite get enough height. Instead of trying again he’d just hold on tight to my leg as I scooped him up as quickly as I could without shrieking in pain.

Feather was a mighty moth hunter. I don’t remember him ever catching a mouse or a bird. Those were perfectly safe from him. But woe to the moth who entered our house. Of course a few did so involuntarily as Feather would carry them inside in his mouth to then let them fly. When he was young he would go on walks with me. He also loved hanging out in a storm sewer drain that was dry most of the year. Our neighbors thought he was a stray at first.

Goodbye Feather. You have a place in my heart alongside Tumbles, Mittens, Mickey, Minnie, Lucy, and even Möbius. But you will always be special in your own way. I rescued you from the pound and you stayed by my side ever since. I love you Feather.

Feather doing cat things like sleeping in a box.

Feather on my lap

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[1] Url: https://www.dailykos.com/stories/2024/6/11/2246139/-An-ode-to-dear-kitty-Feather?pm_campaign=front_page&pm_source=trending&pm_medium=web

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