Eulogy for a purring feline
June 30, 2006
My whole life, I have had a nagging sensation that this time would come. It is strange, and sad, that it has now come to pass, after 17 years of life in common. And, for the first time, this trial I will have to bear alone, without the soothing purr of a cat lying on my belly.
Jim Davis, author and alter-ego of Garfield the cat, once said that “Way down deep we are all motivated by the same urges, cats have the courage to live by them.”
Today, though it pains me dearly, I want to pay a final hommage to a cat which was my companion and, in many ways, owner, for the better part of my life. He came into my life as a stray, rescued by my father. I was three years old, and to me this was an incredible thing. There was this little creature, beaten by the elements and hurt by the world, and I had the unique chance to change things for him.
Of course, at three, I didn’t think about that. But I instantly fell in love with this tiger. Over the years, I connected with him in many ways. He taught me a lot, including the best ways to sprawl over a chair and be terminally comfortable in doing so. I hope that in return, I contributed to making his life a good one, full of sun and tuna and chasing things for fun.
I admit that I have great difficulty finding what to say. I am very new at this sort of thing, and, I fell, not very good at it. Anything that I can describe in human words is hopelessly inadequate to get to the essence of both the majestic presence that this member of the feline family emanated, and my relation to him. In many ways, it is possible that I was merely a distraction to him, but over the years, I have looked into his green eyes more than once, and sensed not only intelligence, but wisdom in his gaze. More than once, I have longed for the simple, undiluted pleasures that a cat bathes in throughout life.
Strange as it may seem, the death of my cat strikes me harder than I’d ever expected. He was, in my eyes and heart, a most esteemed member of the family, and I mourn his departure with the eyes of a three year old, who doesn’t understand why he can’t hear that healing purr, and gaze at his feline wisdom, one last time.
I think that we did have a connection. Last time I wrote of my love for my cat, it was last saturday. The day of his death, though I did not know about it until today. I cannot explain why I thought of him that day, but I like to hold on to the idea that we had something special, something unique. Not like our silly human love, incomplete and hard to bear at times. The three year old that was has memories of happiness that was absolutely and impossibly complete, with the simple sound of a purr.
I am a convinced atheist, but in these moments, I come to hope that I am wrong. I come to hope that the moments I shared with him are merely a beginning, and that he has now gone to another warm home, where there are many comfortable rugs bathed in sunbeams to fall asleep on. And while I know that cats in general are very independant and hold little ties with the world, I hope that from his new home, lying in a sunbeam, he will sometimes have a few fond thoughts for that silly human that sometimes cuddled him for endless sunday afternoons, and that he will purr at the memories.
Maybe that purr will reach across the expanse that now separates us and help soothe my bruised heart. The inner child that was linked to him has departed with him today. And while I seldom truly noticed and truly felt, experienced his purr during my time with him, I will surely feel its absence tonight, most sorely. Without him, the world has suddenly become a little greyer.
Goodbye Puss. May your new home be that of another silly creature that will cater to your tuna, chicken and cuddling needs. And you are always welcome, if you feel like it, to drop in for a stroke and a purr, whenever you wish. My door will always be open for you.
Cats were put into the world to disprove the dogma that all things were created to serve man.
- Paul Gray
A meow massages the heart.
- Stuart McMillan
Who can believe that there is no soul behind those luminous eyes!
- Theophile Gautier
What greater gift than the love of a cat?
- Charles Dickens
There is no such thing as ‘just a cat’.
- Robert A. Heinlein