Monday, May 7th.  Our first morning without our Whiskers.  I went to get the food out of the fridge, out of habit.  Then started bawling.  I took the can and emptied in the trash and banged it against the side to get it to come out with the spoon, just like I did every morning with the leftover food that was not eaten.  He had always been finicky about food and a very light eater.  The bang on the trash made my heart burst in my chest.

I walked out to read and write on the patio.  His little body would meet me at the door to go outside.  The vet said not to let him out because he already had leukemia when we got him and we didn't want to infect other cats.  Having indoor/outdoor cats my whole life, I did let him into our backyard every day.  He would chatter at the birds.  He was too weak to actually attack but he sure would pretend.  Every morning I'd pick him up, rub noses, mugger him and put him down to go out before I would go out.  His fur was so soft.  Such a huge difference from when we found him.

We came home from our thrice annual visit to California and found him behind our patio couch.  He was matted and tiny.  We thought he was a kitten because he was so small.  His eyes were almost shut and when he went to meow, nothing came out.  His teeth were missing and he had a limp.  I was in the middle of recovering from Post Partum Depression and could barely manage caring intentionally for my kids so I was afraid to bring him in, making him ours.  My oldest had been praying and begging us for a cat so indeed, I did.

We took him in and the vet didn't think he would last long.  I knew it would be me caring for him.  2 kids, post partum, my husband at work all day, another living being.  I didn't think I could.  But, I didn't want to let him die.  And sure enough, I was the one who cuddled and fed him.  He won me over.  Someone said yesterday "you loved him, you just didn't show it".  That caused me so much pain.  I certainly could have shown him more.  Always.  But I cuddled him daily.  I picked him up at least 10xs a day.  If he seemed uncomfortable, I put him on my chest and looked into his eyes to communicate I loved him. Most cats don't keep eye contact long, but he sure did.

It was exactly as I feared.  He was more needy than I could give.  I needed to love fully on my kids.  I needed to be present with my human being children. He yowled a lot.  Not just a "give me some attention" meow, but long yowling.  I'd feed him, more yowling.  I'd cuddle him, he would still yowl.  I would play with him, too weak I guess.  Yowl.  But, I did my best.

Of course, I miss that yowl the most.  I beat myself for being annoyed that he pooped on the carpet by the piano for the 20th time when my 1 year old had just exploded poop all over her clothes, crib and self.  He couldn't help it.  I didn't know that.  I wasn't even mad at him.  I was mad that I couldn't handle it.  I should have been able to.  I was given a gift and could only get annoyed at his voice and poop.  And now he's gone and I can't ever get that back.

Love your family.  Love the beings brought into your life, fully.