Well, we lost another cat, and this one was completely unexpected. This was our 20-lb Fat Cat Joey aka Fatass. He was only 10 years old. Not young, but not really old either. It happened two Fridays ago, and I guess it's taking me this long to come to terms with it.
I was finishing up at work and feeling excited about the weekend, but for some reason, as I was leaving, I got a bad feeling. When I got home, my son's truck was parked in the driveway. I thought he would be at his girlfriend's. As soon as I pulled in, he came up to the car and told me he needed to talk to me inside. That's never a good sign.
Once we got inside, he told me that Joey had died. He came home from college to get some thing to take to his girlfriend's, and he saw my wife and the cat asleep on the bed. But something didn't look right to him, and when he went to check Joey, he found out he was no longer with us. I went upstairs, and my wife was sitting on the bed crying, and Joey was lying there looking just like he was asleep. Once she composed herself enough to actually speak, she told me she was sitting on the bed watching TV, and he jumped up on the bed to watch TV with her, as he often does. Then he went to sleep, and she did the same. She woke up later. He didn't. As far as we can figure out, his heart gave out while he was asleep. I guess jumping up on the bed, as heavy as he was, put a strain on his heart, and this was one time too many for him.
She took it pretty hard. That was her TV buddy, and her exercise buddy, although he'd always just sit there and watch her. He probably should have been working out with her, but I don't know how you get a cat to work out. He also liked to wedge his fat ass between us in bed at night and keep us warm. She stayed inside while my son and I buried him. She couldn't deal with seeing yet another cat being put in the ground. She just wanted to remember him asleep on the bed.
This makes four cats in two years. We lost Misty just a couple months ago, Frisky in April of last year, and "Orange Bastard" aka Dillon the November before that. I was hoping Joey would be with us a few more years, because I'm really getting tired of putting cats in the ground.
The thing that troubles me the most is that I cried when every other cat died. I haven't been able to this time. I thought I was going to when I found out, but then nothing came out. Maybe I'm still in shock, I don't know. I'm just worried that it's all going to decide to come out when I'm somewhere that I don't want it to. That's not to say I wasn't sad. I was supposed to go to karaoke that night, but I just didn't feel like singing. She even told me to go out if I wanted to, that there was no point in sitting around the house moping, but I couldn't do it. I eventually went out to another bar to see my friend who gave us the kitten and talk to her, but I wasn't out for very long.
R.I.P. Fat Cat. The house seems so empty without you.
I was finishing up at work and feeling excited about the weekend, but for some reason, as I was leaving, I got a bad feeling. When I got home, my son's truck was parked in the driveway. I thought he would be at his girlfriend's. As soon as I pulled in, he came up to the car and told me he needed to talk to me inside. That's never a good sign.
Once we got inside, he told me that Joey had died. He came home from college to get some thing to take to his girlfriend's, and he saw my wife and the cat asleep on the bed. But something didn't look right to him, and when he went to check Joey, he found out he was no longer with us. I went upstairs, and my wife was sitting on the bed crying, and Joey was lying there looking just like he was asleep. Once she composed herself enough to actually speak, she told me she was sitting on the bed watching TV, and he jumped up on the bed to watch TV with her, as he often does. Then he went to sleep, and she did the same. She woke up later. He didn't. As far as we can figure out, his heart gave out while he was asleep. I guess jumping up on the bed, as heavy as he was, put a strain on his heart, and this was one time too many for him.
She took it pretty hard. That was her TV buddy, and her exercise buddy, although he'd always just sit there and watch her. He probably should have been working out with her, but I don't know how you get a cat to work out. He also liked to wedge his fat ass between us in bed at night and keep us warm. She stayed inside while my son and I buried him. She couldn't deal with seeing yet another cat being put in the ground. She just wanted to remember him asleep on the bed.
This makes four cats in two years. We lost Misty just a couple months ago, Frisky in April of last year, and "Orange Bastard" aka Dillon the November before that. I was hoping Joey would be with us a few more years, because I'm really getting tired of putting cats in the ground.
The thing that troubles me the most is that I cried when every other cat died. I haven't been able to this time. I thought I was going to when I found out, but then nothing came out. Maybe I'm still in shock, I don't know. I'm just worried that it's all going to decide to come out when I'm somewhere that I don't want it to. That's not to say I wasn't sad. I was supposed to go to karaoke that night, but I just didn't feel like singing. She even told me to go out if I wanted to, that there was no point in sitting around the house moping, but I couldn't do it. I eventually went out to another bar to see my friend who gave us the kitten and talk to her, but I wasn't out for very long.
R.I.P. Fat Cat. The house seems so empty without you.
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