Dead dead dead
The past few weeks have been tough. In that time I've lost three beings who were very important to me. Two of them were the sweetest, kindest, nicest, most helpful people anyone could have the pleasure of knowing. The third one was our cat.
Now I know some of you are saying that surely I can't equate a cats life to that of human beings. To that I say, yes, I can and you can stop reading this right now because you are a cunt.
Now that I've got rid of the assholes let's get to the tale.
The two guys were also friends and when they were together it was like Christmas. What friend box do I open first? You were drawn to them by their genuine concern, care and sense of fun. Anyone who was a friend to one of them was lucky. I, to my good fortune, was doubly lucky. And to lose them both in such rapid succession was devastating. You just start righting yourself from the first one when the other shoe drops.
On your head. And it's covering the working end of a sledgehammer.
One of the most amazing parts of these two guys were their hugs. Most people I am truly close to are not, by any means, huggy people. Most of them are the opposite. Prickly could be a term. Down right adverse to human touch. But these two guys were the total opposites. Every time you saw them you knew what you were in for. And there was nothing you could do about it. You were going to get a great big hug and, no matter how prickly, you were going to like it.
Because they meant it. You knew it was with great affection. You knew it was with great care. Honestly, you felt a little bit better about yourself after they were through. And I'm saddened to know I'll never get that from either of them again.
While in line at a wake I'm looking at him laying there and thought, "Damn! That's the least scraggly his beard has ever looked." Then I chuckled to myself knowing he'd expect me to have, at the minimum, had that thought.
We finally get to his family and you could see where he got his kindness from. It was in each of their faces. Even through their sadness they were present for you. My girlfriend introduces us to his elderly mother and as she's explaining what her son meant to us and how we came to be acquainted she repeated our names.
"I know you. David used to talk about you all the time." Then she looks at me and says something that chilled me. "He used to call me over all the time saying, 'Come here and read what Chris wrote.'"
I did not see that coming. I don't really think of myself as wholesome family entertainment. Manson family maybe. But to subject this white haired grandmother to me? What the hell was Davy thinking?
"I'm sorry he felt comfortable enough with your relationship to subject you to me." I said in an attempt to extricate myself from this situation with some grace.
"Oh, I enjoyed it. You're very funny."
I did not see that coming. I guess I'm going to have to expand my demographic. I'll start performing at nursing homes and senior centers from now on. An untapped market. KA-ching!
When we're leaving it dawned on my girlfriend that we failed to keep our promise of taking him out to dinner for a small kindness he did for us. I look at her, smile and say,
"Got out of that one with my wallet unscathed. Thanks, Davy!"
She groaned, as I knew she would. I sail on the SS Too Soon. After a beat I continued with,
"He would have liked that." And she had to agree he would.
I wonder if I should call his mother and tell that joke?
Just as unexpectedly our cat took ill and within days died. He was in the hospital while we attended Davy's wake. The next day the 'you have a decision to make' call came. As gut-wrenching as it was we knew what we had to do. I got out of work and we went to the house so I could dig a hole. Let me tell if you're not really a fan of yard work digging your pets grave makes that distaste seem petty.
We're met by the doctor and the first thing she asks is,
"There's a university named after your cart? In Australia?"
I get it right away but it takes a second for Terry to focus on anything other than her grief. When she does she smiles.
"Perth, actually." Then she and I chuckle. She stands up so the doctor can see her Budeschwager University sweat shirt. She explains that it was a joke site I did some years ago (and hope to soon have back up). The doctor says they had to search the name because it was so unusual and they found the site. What kind of cat gets Googled?
A very special boy.
We're with him and although he knew it was us it was there were none of his usual behaviors. He just laid there looking at us to help him. If he only knew the only way to help him was the worst outcome I'm sure in his current state he'd have told us to move forward.
After spending some time with him my girlfriend asked if we should do it. Knowing she's a procrastinator and, if she had her way, we'd be camping out there I had to tell her it was time. We had to end the life of someone who was very dear to us. He, just like my other two deceased friends, was one of the gentlest creatures to roam the planet. I am very fortunate to have had all of them in my life.
The doctor begins to inject a sedative. At first there was his last, plaintive meow and then he slowly slipped away. As he laid there my girlfriend petted his head and, as she always said, 'talked sweet to him.' At one point she took her eyes of Bunda, looked at the doctor and said,
"This is killing me."
"You?" I asked. "What do you think it's doing to him."
Once again she gave me the, 'Really?' look but, once again, I defended myself with,
"Bunda would have liked that joke." The doctor looked at me. "He would, you know."
We're in the waiting room for them to bring his body out. My girlfriend is absolutely destroyed by what we have done. I have to remind her that it's not about us. I reminded her I learned that from her in her duties as a nurse. I know she's not thrilled I'm tossing her own words in her face but she knows.
I'm standing there going over what just happened and I smile. I smile because the last thing I ever said to Bunda was, "I hope you had a great life because you made ours great."
The doctor hands me the cat carrier and, although I know it is not true, at that moment I felt as if I'd never carried anything heavier in my life.
Because, although reality may not agree, it truly was the heaviest item I've ever carried.
This is the picture of Bunda that lead us to him.
