Flashes of Panic

I’m of two minds about whether to write about this. I’m concerned about the perception that I’m giving a false importance to the event, playing for sympathy, or just being overly dramatic.

On the other hand, there won’t be any other obits, and many of you reading here knew her, so it’s not inappropriate for me to remember her here. I’ve written about plenty of things of less consequence, and there are a few good stories here.

My parents had their cat put down yesterday morning. Our cat, I should say, since she got up with me every morning for my last two years there, standing on the edge of the bathroom sink to bump noses with me when I got out of the shower. She was a little grey tiger we got from the shelter. We were looking at kittens in another cage when my father shushed us, then turned and fished out this tiny kitten with a purr so big it was shaking her whole body. I named her after a stuffed cat that my aunt gave me while I was still in the crib. They resembled each other, except one had a bell in the end of its tail, and the other didn’t.

She had respiratory problems in her old age, and the purr became a soft buzz. She didn’t approve of her staff’s noisy grandchildren, even though they were enthralled with her. At some point, the younger girl got too close, and got hissed at. “The kitty smiled at me!” she reported to her grandmother, delighted.

Again, I don’t want to invest this with any false drama. Two of my cousins lost their grandmother on the other side yesterday as well, and it feels a bit foolish to be talking about a cat (and not even the one I work for) in that perspective. But she was a friend as well, I have good memories of her, and they’re worth a few minutes to me.

Now playing: Five-O from Laid by James