3 days ago
I've met a lot of cats in my life and few I didn't like. Agent Orange here was by far my favorite. He behaved like a dog. He was aggressively affectionate. If I didn't pick him up soon enough when he was a kitten, he would stretch his front paws up towards me like a baby wanting to be held. If that didn't do the trick, he would start climbing up my leg with his claws. He would saunter into my room, flop on the floor and roll around, then jump into my lap, head-butt me and purr with ecstasy. Total love cat.
The first thing my mom told me when she picked me up from the airport upon my return was that he'd disappeared about a month ago while I was in Greenland, probably taken by coyotes. Our house is at the edge of the neighborhood next to a lot of beautiful open space and cats vanishing is not unsusual. The possibility that it would happen to one of ours was always in the back of my mind, I just never thought it actually would.
I'm searching for a silver lining here as we humans have been trained to do. Is there really a bright side to the passing of a being you adore?
The joy I feel recalling memories of him, at least right now, is far outweighed by the sadness that erupts from knowing I'll never see him again. But, I've come to know over the last few years that the type of sadness that comes with being forced to accept the impermanence of life is the kind that opens me the most. I guess that's the silver lining here if there is one- that feeling true sadness pierces my heart to an uncommon and mostly unexplored depth, but simultaneously a white burning light rushes in to fill the space, and then that space feels as big as the universe. Maybe the definition is different for everyone but for me, it's what I call "love".
I miss you my fuzzy little prince. I'll carry a piece of you with me as long as I can. 🐅🐾🌌