However, I had to put my cat to sleep, so that’s what we’ve got to work with today.
What can I say about Mr. Nathan? He was a cat. He was gray. He was none too bright. He was also my very first pet (if you don’t count all those fish I killed). As college seniors, my BFF and I went down to the Union Square animal shelter looking for some cute decoys to stall our biological clocks for as long as humanly possible. One little kitten crawled into my lap and fell asleep. I swooned. At the time, I didn’t realize he was only looking for a warm place to sleep, it didn’t matter where (a trait that would remain constant throughout his 14 years). No, I thought he was claiming me. And I wanted to be claimed.
He was a loyal friend, Mr. Nathan. He saw me through five apartments, six jobs, and one very persistent boyfriend. Did he complain when I got married, had kids, and then barely paid him any attention? Yes, actually, he did complain about that. As he should have. But did he complain when I actually named one of the kids a variation of his own name, because it really was one of the few names I liked, thereby infringing on the only thing he could truly call his own? He probably complained about that, too. I don’t speak cat. But the point is that he didn’t throw in the towel. He might have run away a couple of times, but he always came back.
In the end, it was a tumor blocking his intestines that promised to starve him to death before too long, so we made a call. No cat chemo. No surgery. Just a week of full-on attention like the good old days. Jazz and tuna fish milkshakes.
I loved that stupid cat.
(Or was he a llama?)