My cat was born April 8th, 2003 in my kitchen. Her mother was a brown and black calico cat named Pepper who had been born on my porch the previous April. My cat was eventually named Fluffy, and was originally my sister's cat. And her name kinda shifted into Fluffum; simply because it was easier to call for her with that name.
Around 2007, my sister moved out and Fluffum began sleeping in my bed and becoming close to me. She would come to me when she needed to be petted or wanted a snack. And as time went on, there were times I'd come to her. There were many times as I began dating that Fluffum became a sort of comfort to me when I'd be upset about a guy. Her loud purr would put me to sleep. Her purr was so loud; if you were downstairs in the night, she could be across the house and you could still hear her. Hence, my dad called her 'Fluffdiesel', haha. She could be so loving. There were also several occasions where she showed a certain kindness. On Mother's Day and my birthday, for several years, she brought me a dead rodent and left it on the porch. It was like she knew it was my birthday and that was her gift to me. She'd look at me with such pride as I'd open the door and gasp. But I understood the sentiment and thanked her with kisses and scratches behind the ear. She also used to try and steal the food bowl from my other cats by grabbing it with her paw and dragging it toward herself. My kitty was a sassy and hungry young lady.
My cat was my baby. I often referred to her as my daughter.
On November 7th, 2016, my daughter, my cat, my friend, died.
With real world issues surrounding me, I feel silly for feeling so saddened over a cats death. Not long before, a kid I went to school with committed suicide. And just days before marked the anniversary of a tragic accident killing yet another schoolmate. My newsfeed on all social media were filled with mourning for these two young men. Meanwhile, I'm crying hysterically because my cat passed away. But I shouldn't feel guilty or feel ashamed; my cat was apart of my family. You know, I realized that Fluffum was in my life longer than my paternal grandfather (whom passed when I was 9). Fluffum was my cat for nearly 14 years, her whole entire life, and over half of mine.
I woke up that morning to my mother panicking. She just blatantly told me and it really shocked me. I couldn't believe it. Fluffum had been sleeping a lot in the days leading up to that Monday, but I was just foolish and didn't think anything of it. My cat was always pretty lazy, honestly. I recall running down the stairs, my legs still asleep from just waking up. I ran into the living room to see my cat sprawled in a box, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. She was gone. I bent over, shaking and still telling myself it was merely a bad dream. I touched her lifeless body and realized then that it wasn't. I got back up and hugged myself and began crying. I couldn't do anything other than scream and cry in pure disbelief. I bent back down and looked at her and held her paw.
There she was, one of my dearest and oldest friends, lying in a box. My mom closed her eyes and eventually wrapped her up in a blanket. I kept thinking about how little attention I had paid her in her final days. I recalled seeing her on my front porch the afternoon before. Then I thought back further. In mid October, she began coming into my room and sleeping in my bed again; something she hadn't done in years. I should've known then that something was wrong. I have to wonder if she was trying to tell me, if she even knew. I cherish my last 'sleepover' with her. She was at the foot of the bed, and I got down and laid next to her. I woke up the next morning to discover she was still there, which surprised me because as soon as she heard food... she was gone lol. But she was with me instead. My cat didn't love everyone like that, so I felt very special. She always came right to me if I called for her, and she let me hold her, no matter how much she hated it. My cat was so beautiful. We always joked that she had the prettiest eyes, and to top it off, they were surrounded by her own natural eyeliner.
My dad came home and began digging a hole in the backyard. It was hard to comprehend, and I honestly wanted so much more for her. She wasn't just some pet. A few months ago, my mother found a small rabbit under my father's trailer. It was dead and needed to be buried, so I volunteered. No offense to that rabbit, but my cat wasn't some random animal. Fluffum wasn't some stray or an unloved battered alley cat. Fluffum was very much loved by my family and even friends. It broke my heart to bury her there, because I'd rather she always be with me. But I guess in a sense, she always will be. I'm not particularly religious, but I would love nothing more than to believe that everything and everyone I've ever loved will watch over me or still keep me company in some way. I am still crying, I am still grieving. I miss my cat terribly. I miss my friend. It's strange to be on my couch and glance down, expecting to see her about to jump up and curl next to me, but see nothing there. It's strange to shake the food in her bowl (which would immediately catch her attention) and expect her to run past me and start chowing down, only to remember... she's gone. I'm terrible with loss, and with change. I hope my cat knows just how much she means to me. I am beyond heartbroken, but hopefully with time, that changes.
Fluffum, wherever you are, whatever you're doing, always know there's an empty spot at the bottom of my bed for you to lay.
I miss you terribly.