We Have A Dead Cat
A week ago Monday, around 6:30 PM, I went outside to move the car from the street into the driveway. When I was done, I saw a cat laying on our side, on the lawn. I walked closer.
It was my cat, Gabby. She wasn't moving.
"Gabby?" I said. Then, I said, louder, "GABBY?"
As I knelt beside the cat, Regina flung open the door.
"What's wrong with Gabby?" she said.
"She's dead," I said.
Regina ran outside and felt for a heartbeat.
"Oh my God, Neal! She is dead!"
Elijah ran outside, screaming, "Gabby's dead! Gabby's dead! Oh, no! Gabby's dead!"
We looked at the body. There didn't appear to be any major injuries. A thin trickle of blood had leaked from her mouth, and she'd urinated on the spot where she'd passed.
"No," I said.
At that moment, an extremely tattooed man came walking up our driveway, heading toward the house behind us. I noticed that his earlobes had been elongated. Black discs hung down from both of them. With him was a woman carrying a long-haired little boy. They were going to visit our neighbors.
"How's it going?" he said.
"Not so good," I said. "Our cat just died."
"WHAT?" he said.
He rushed to Gabby's side and felt her.
"Oh, yeah," he said.
He placed a hand on my chest and gazed at me with deep sincerity. It wasn't creepy at all, but because I'm not used to deep sincerity, I thought it was at the time.
"She's a blessing to you," he said, "and she's in a better place now."
"We lost a cat a year ago," said the woman. "We'd just moved to Florida and she was our guiding spirit."
They were weird, but also very kind.
"I had her since 1995," I said. "I've known her, or knew her, longer than my wife."
"Cats are sent here to protect us from evil," he said.
I wanted to reply, "I don't know about that," but I wasn't in the mood to get into a theological argument with a helpful hippie. Instead, Regina said, "I think she was hit by a car."
"She died loving you," said the man.
"No doubt," I said.
The next hour is a bit of a muddle in my memory. Our neighbors behind us provided me with a shovel and a large shoebox. I put Gabby in the box and went into our backyard, where I started digging a hole under the big banana tree. My movements were laconic at best. I was thinking about how Gabby would always drape herself over my shoulders while I was typing, and about how she wasn't going to do that anymore. I also remembered how she shredded my roommates' favorite plant the day I adopted her, setting the stage for many years of naughty behavior. For a while, I had a black plastic stick with a feather on the end. I'd wriggle it in front of Gabby's face, and she'd lunge for it. Then I'd whirl it around in a circle, and she'd lay chase. Then, I'd wriggle it again, just below her chin, and then suddenly whip it up several feet in the air. Gabby would leap several feet in the air, providing amusement for many years' worth of stoned partygoers. She hadn't done that for years, but she still had a pretty good vertical leap.
From behind me I heard, "Let me help you."
It was the hippie.
"Huh?" I said.
"I'm a professional," he said.
I wanted to say, "what? You're a professional gravedigger?" But, again, he was very helpful, so I didn't.
He took the shovel from me and began attacking the ground with a jackhammer motion. His body type (lanky), level of tattooedness (high), and general speed of motion (spastic), called to mind Anthony Kiedis of The Red Hot Chili Peppers. I've never seen that band live and haven't ever really been a fan, but I thought of them anyway as the hippie priest attacked my cat's grave as though he were performing a lunatic encore at the Wiltern.
He handed me the shovel silently. I tried to place Gabby's box into the hole. It didn't quite fit. So I poked the shovel around the edges to create a few extra inches of room. From behind me, I heard,
"Hey, Neal, you need a drink?"
"I'm cool," I said.
"You need some bud?"
"Hell, yeah!" I said, and I started to dig faster.
A few minutes later, I scooped the last shovelful of dirt onto my cat's grave, and patted it down. Less than one hour before, she'd been alive. Now she was in a box in my backyard. Life went away that quickly. Man.
The smoke would be there. My family needed me now. Or I needed them. I went into the house where Elijah was watching an episode of Curious George on TIVO, sat down beside him on the couch, and immediately broke down sobbing.
Regina rushed me out of the room.
"Get a grip on yourself," she said.
"How can I?" I said. "My kitty is dead!"
"You need to be strong for your son."
"You fucking Protestants and your repressed emotion!"
"This has nothing to do with me being a Protestant. I just don't want you upsetting Elijah."
"Fair enough."
A few minutes on the bed calmed me. Then we switched our focus. We were concerned, at first, that it would be tough to get Elijah through Gabby's death. But he moved quickly through several odd stages of four-year-old grief.
1. Laying in bed at night, listing all the family members who are still alive.
2. Asking what Gabby is doing in heaven. Asking what a soul is when we tell him that only Gabby's soul is in heaven.
3. Asking how Gabby can eat underground.
4. Pronouncing "We have a dead cat!" upon entering the schoolyard the day after Gabby's death.
5. Less than a week later, asking if we can eat "Gabby stew" for dinner.
I think the kid will be fine.
As for me, I miss my little Gabby. She was a good companion in the days when I didn't have permanent female company. She saw me through the writing of four books, the editing of another, and the composition of countless newspaper and magazine articles. She moved with me from Chicago to Philadelphia to Austin to Los Angeles. She also left little pools of barf everywhere and consistently tore holes in my clothing with her claws. Basically, she was a cat. But she was a sweet cat, and she was mine, and there's a hole in my life without her, even though I now have to do a little less cleaning.
Gabby used to sit on my laptop. Sometimes, I'd leave it open, and she'd sit on the keyboard and really screw things up for me. For 11 years, I made it a habit of running into my office and making sure my laptop was OK. Now at least once a day, it still occurs to me that I should check. But she isn't there.
Comments
Well done, NP. Thanks for that.
Posted by: troy | November 17, 2006 8:55 AM
Sorry about your loss of Gabby. One of my dogs seems to be in her last years and has moments that cause me to think about what it would be like without her. Ugh. The I think about what the boy would do without her. Double-Ugh.
On the bright (and completely unrealated) side, comments are back.
Posted by: 2DogsandABaby | November 17, 2006 9:53 AM
I'm sorry your cat's gone. I know how it is and I'm sorry for your loss. I lost my cat Eggs June 29th this year. He had cancer for a long time but I didn't pick up on it till it was way too late. I had to put him to sleep when it seemed like he didn't have any more good days in him. We had the vet do a house call and it was horrible. Even if you're right there in the last moments you can't really say goodbye to your pet. I still don't know what to do with his ashes. He was only six years old and was MY cat. Now that I'm married I know that won't really happen again in the same way. We was my friend.
It sounds like Gabby had just about as good a life a cat can have. I'm sure she did die loving you.
Posted by: Tim | November 17, 2006 9:58 AM
Sorry to hear about the loss of your cat. That's so hard. Peace to you and yours.
Posted by: K. | November 17, 2006 1:11 PM
Ditto to all that. I lost my 18 year old cat, Satch, last month; he was going to the vet for teeth cleaning and died under anesthesia (not a bad way to get your teeth worked on, or to Make the Big Exit for that matter). I had him longer than I've endured my own kids. The vet called while I was driving on the interstate - I pulled off, parked in the first available spot and BAWLED, not unlike the way Satch used to complain early in the morning whenever there was no food in his bowl and we lay comatose in our beds. You spend the first week thinking, 24 hours ago he was lying on the chair in the corner, 36 hours ago I was cleaning the litter box, etc, etc. It is so stunningly final.
Two weeks later we got 2 new kitties from the shelter - but not the same. They have their own personalities, and Satch remains irreplaceable.
Posted by: Lissy Y. | November 17, 2006 1:32 PM
You have my condolences. My wife and I are not looking forward to the time when our cats start to check out. The oldest two have been with us since before we were married in 1995 and have traveled with us through several states and graduate programs.
It may sound banal, but I have found myself watching Harold & Maude following the death of various relatives and pets. Life goes on, and it is the richer because you have shared experiences with others who have loved you. Whether they are human or not doesn't really matter. You have known them and they carry on with you: they are part of who you are, even after they are gone.
Shifting gears, congrats on getting the site primed for the next phase.
Posted by: PhillyD | November 17, 2006 3:00 PM
Sorry for your loss. I dread the day my 11 year old furry friend is no longer parking his tail in the middle of the page I'm reading. Gabby was very lucky to own you.
Posted by: Chicago Shannon | November 17, 2006 3:19 PM
I'm sorry about your cat, but it's cool that you had a real live hippie to help escort her into her kitty afterlife. We just had a vet with red-rimmed eyes. Funny how vets will cry with you, but doctors don't.
Lissy Y., isn't it weird how they all have completely different personalities? Until a year ago next month, I could take cats or leave them. Then, we got three one day old foster kittens who were found in the back of a truck at a car dealer. We got so attached that we couldn't bear to give them up. Even though they were raised identically, they're so different from each other. All of our dogs are...well, pretty much dogs. Happy and uncomplicated. The cats are various degrees of affectionate, destructive, brave, and playful.
Posted by: Flippy | November 20, 2006 12:29 AM
I was moved by your story and am sorry about your loss. When we lost our beloved dog, our daughter was five. At first, when it rained, she said it was our dog crying down from heaven. She didn't grieve as long as we did (and still do at certain times), but she still remembers her first dog. Every year since, she's taken the dog's picture into her school on Nov. 1 for their "Day of the Dead" celebration/discussion where the kids have a chance to talk about the people and pets they've loved and lost.
Posted by: tedmom | November 24, 2006 1:39 PM
Thank you for this read. I lost my Blaze on Thursday, Thanksgiving day. She was a calico cat and she had just turned 18 years old last summer. I cried and laughed while reading your story. I miss my Blaze badly. She was there for me when I had no one in my life. I hope her spirit will stay with me.
Posted by: hartuvston | November 25, 2006 6:33 AM
I too just had to put my cat to sleep after having her for 18 years...very hard. She moved with me all over the country, and it was nice having her there when I was alone in a strange city. I'll miss her, but she was sick and it was time, but that doesn't make it any easier. I had to come home for the holiday and take care of that yesterday.
Posted by: C | November 25, 2006 9:51 AM
Condolences on the loss of Gabby.
Luna has been with me thru 2 husbands, 5 lovers, 2 provinces, 4 cities, 14 apartments and several bad haircuts. I thought our bond was unshakeable.
Enter The DARK Lord, a loveable, yet benignly evil stray we have adopted. My old girl now lives in the linen closet. Nothing will coax her back to her rightful spot at the head of the bed, where for 14 years she has delighted in poking her soft silvery feet in my eyes/ears/mouth.
I'm considering kitty psychiatry, channeling, homeopathy, and prozac. (4 both of us)
Cats, either you get them, or you're simple.
Posted by: Luna2372 | November 25, 2006 2:17 PM
Sorry about Gabby, Neal. She was a lucky cat to land with you. Great tribute to her.
Posted by: sparkle | December 5, 2006 7:43 AM
I was surfing the internet to find websites dealing with grief over the death of a pet when I came across your blog. I'm sorry for the loss of your cat. I lost my cat, Tiger, last week. I tried to keep my hopes up that he would come home but two days ago one of my neighbors told me that she saw my little orange kitty lying dead in the middle of an intersection. He was run over by a car. Tiger was only seven years old and he was still as active and playful as a kitten. He had many years left in him but was taken suddenly and I never got to say goodbye. For many years I suffered from social anxiety disorder and being that I never had many friends, my cat was always there to calm me down and help me through my struggles.
Posted by: nabeel | March 4, 2007 10:58 PM
Hi Neal, I really liked your work above about Gabby. I understand. I have lost Fritz a month ago, my 18 and half years old dog and today I have discovered that probably my 7 years old cat, Nero, who went missing last year, was hit by a car and died. I liked the way you grasped the loss of an animal friend...a hole...she or he is not there anymore. One minute is alive and doing the small little things that are part of your everyday life...and the next minute is...no more...nothing...not there or here, just gone. It is the impermanence of life touching our life to recall us to reality. We are living assuming we will be eternal...acting as if we are, as our loved ones are...but we are not. The wake up bell arrives as ice cubes poured behind us from the collar of our shirt....they come cold and painful...but they come. They find us distracted by insignificant details of life that takes over as noise distracting our mind from the present. But they do insist...they urge us...with tears...to listen to the sound of life that passes by.
I wish you all the best my friend. Keep writing. Candida
Posted by: Candida Nastrucci | April 22, 2007 2:08 PM
I'd really like to know if the tattood man said any more about cats being sent to protecting their owners from evil?
Thankyou
Posted by: R | May 3, 2007 10:46 PM