My Fat Cat

I watched my cat, Veruca take her last breath about twenty minutes ago. It was as painful for me to watch as it was for her to take. She had grown very weary and thin over the last couple of weeks. At one time she showed signs of improving from whatever ailment that was attacking her. No, I don't know what was wrong with her.

When we first got Veruca, I didn't care for her much. She was not as friendly as a kitten should be. She was downright mean to me; but she loved Emmaline. She would sleep in her pockets and against her shoulder. Over the last four years, Veruca and I grew to love each other. She went from being Em's cat to being my cat.

Veruca was always aloof. She always stood on the fray watching the rest of the household. She rarely enjoyed people holding her, but she always sat close enough that you could tell that she really wanted the attention. Right before her estrus, she went into shadow mode. She barely left my side. Her usual manner was one of growling, warning people to stay away to incessantly meowing for petting and hugs and squeezing. She literally would seek me out and crawl into my lap.

In a few words, Veruca reminded me of myself. Starving for attention but really unsure of how to ask for it.

I feel awful that I didn't take her to the vet. Whatever ailed her, I knew a visit to the vet would result in putting her to sleep because I can't afford any treatments that only extended the inevitable. Most of you would probably consider me a very poor pet owner. I think of myself that way. If you can't take care of your pet, don't have one.

For my Veruca....my fat cat, I love you. I miss you, my grumpy loner. You were definitely my cat. And I thank you for being a loving curmudgeon.