It’s the ones who choose you that leave the lasting impressions…
10 years ago I was living in a cute little one-bedroom apartment in Long Beach. The apartment building had small separate, private garages that you had to access from the alley. Every morning I would leave for work, go to the alley, unlock my garage door, open it, drive my car out, and then leaving it running, with the driver’s door open, I would get out, close and lock the garage door, hop back in the car and take off for work.
One morning as I walked to my garage I noticed a cute little 6 month old (or so) black and white kitten rooting around in the dumpster. Because I was running late I couldn’t do anything about it but I promised myself and the kitty that if he was there when I got home that night, I’d take him in. Unfortunately, when I got home that night, he was no where to be found, and I even looked for him…hard. He must have just been passing through.
That next morning, I left for work as usual: Unlocked and opened the garage door; drove my car out; leaving the motor running and the driver’s door open, I got out and closed and locked the garaged door; hop back in my car, and What the Fuck? There, sitting in the passenger seat as pretty as you please, is the black (well, upon closer inspection, he was more of a gun-metal gray) and white kitty. And that’s how I became Moze’s person. He chose me, and I am glad for it.
You would think that this story has a happy ending, and in a way it does. I’ve had 10 awesome years with this little guy. He’s been my constant companion, my mentor, my comfort, my inspiration, and my joy. He taught me how to love again, and how to laugh, and how to just “be”. He’s given me so much, and expected so little in return. And now I have to say goodbye. And it is by far the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my entire 40+ years of living.
You see, for the past week, I’ve noticed that Moze hasn’t been very Moze-like. He hasn’t been eating, he’s been lethargic and listless. He can’t jump up very high anymore, even though he tries like hell, and every time he tries, he falls and he doesn’t land on his feet. We took him to the vet yesterday where they found a tumor the size of a tennis ball in his abdomen, and it was malignant. I thought I would have a few more years with him. I thought wrong. Yes, that this little spark of life and touch of fluff became such a wonderful, integral part of my life is the happy part of the story. He even had a sense of humor. Here he is doing his Titanic Impression…
…He’s sinking… get it? I know that’s bad, but my heart is breaking and I’m grasping for straws here.
Yesterday the vet gave him a shot of cortizone hoping to give him a couple of good days, or even weeks, but so far nothing has changed, and I just can’t prolong his suffering any more. It would be very selfish of me. Last night he and I said our goodbyes. He snuggled with me as long as he could, sharing what’s left of his mellow, before returning to his spot on the floor in our bedroom in front of the sliding glass door that leads out to the balcony. He let me know it was time. This morning we took him to the vet, and came home alone.God, I miss him so much!