PS - my cat is dead

Originally posted on Facebook, Sept. 29, 2014

I know a lot of people don’t like cats. I do. I’m not cat crazy, but, as a species, I really think they’re an interesting, unique bunch of fur, claws and personality. Our family cat, Rocky, died suddenly this morning. He suddenly got sick yesterday, spent the night at the vet’s, then his liver failed this morning. He was only seven-and-a-half. What a rip off! 

I thought we’d have him until he was at least 15. We got half of that number. Iam thankful for that half. Nobody ever gets enough from anyone or anything they love. One of the gifts pets give us in their short lives is their death, with which we are reminded of the fragility of life and certainty of our own death. Why or how are those gifts? Because they remind us each day is precious, cliché as that sounds. What else do we have but this moment?

My wife and I got Rocky from Leed Animal shelter as a kitten the day after we got our (then) puppy Sophia. They grew up together. They rolled around, fought, played and taught each other a little bit about what it was like to be the other species. They groomed each other, they hid out under the bed together, they even ate and drank out of the same bowls. Rocky played more like a dog, while Sophia continues to lounge on couches like a cat. 

Sophia is down a playmate and partner today. As for us, my wife and I just keep crying. She never wanted a cat. She grew up with dogs and cats, but describes herself as a dog person. She begrudgingly allowed me to bring Rocky home when we got Sophia. It didn’t take more than a day for her to fall completely in love with our blue-eyed little boy. I’m not going to say Rocky was that cat that everyone would have loved – people who say that about their cats are “hopefully projecting” in my opinion. But my wife loved him, in spite of her feeling about cats and that was enough for me and him. He was and always will be part of our family. 

I asked our son Giuseppe if he wanted to say goodbye to Rocky at the vet’s office. He said yes. We got to see what was left behind one last time. Giuseppe told Rocky he loved him and he missed him.

“I wish Rocky wouldn’t have died until he was ten,” Giuseppe said. “We didn’t have him for very long.”

Thank you, Rocky, you were a beautiful cat and will always be part of our family.

Swimming with death

He doesn't know…
I'm looking at my five-year-old son. 
He's laughing, playing with his best friend, Mason, at their swim lesson.
Unknowingly, my son is enjoying the last few minutes of his life without knowing death intimately.
Our cat, Rocky, died suddenly this morning.
He was 7.5 years old.
His liver failed him.
Looking back, there were signs;
But we were too busy.
That's our sedative:
We're too fucking busy.
In truth, for now at least,
I don't feel bad or guilty.
I accept death as a necessary trade for life.
That doesn't make it any less painful.

My wife and I couldn't sleep last night,
Waiting for the call from the vet to tell us he had died.
When it didn't come, I hoped that was a good sign.
I tried to go on my run this morning.
I was supposed to run 13 miles for my training –
I ran three.
I almost hyperventilated along the way.
Breath isn't usually an issue for me
As I’ve trained well over the past several months,
But I was thinking about Rocky.
Giuseppe is very excited this morning to be in level 2 of his swimming class.
He's a big boy, growing leaps and bounds.
He's about to grow into his first understanding of death.
Rocky has been around since before Giuseppe was born.
Rocky was always very sweet and patient with him and Francesca, his younger sister.
They always loved him.
But since he's been omnipresent in their lives
They don't know how to fully appreciate him.
To them, Rocky, Sophia (our dog), hell, all of us
Are eternal.
So now I prepare to shatter a belief.
I don't know if I'm ready for my son or daughter to understand that truth
But it doesn't matter what I'm ready for.
Neither life nor death wait for “ready”.
We are small,
So much smaller than we'd like to believe,
And yet we feel so much.
Giuseppe is looking at me from the pool.
Does he know?
He couldn't.
We talked about it in the car this morning on the way to his swim lesson.
I asked him what he would feel if Rocky didn't come back from the vets.
He said he'd be sad.
It's not a fair question, really;
How could he know how he'd feel about something he's ever experienced and that even the greatest artists, writers and philosophers can only swipe blindly at?
Nobody knows death,
And yet it knows all of us intimately.
He had a great swim lesson.
He did a great job.
It's time to tell him about death.