They sent him home in a 'coffin' type cardboard box (not sealed) and I'm going through the remorse things. I should have looked at him one last time. But I didn't. Makes me think of the day my grandmother died (I was seventeen) and I wouldn't go to the wake (my dad was really upset), because I heard it was going to be an open casket. I'd remembered my mom saying how bloated my gram looked in the hospital and I didn't want to remember her that way. I regret that now. Sorry, Dad....
Hard to sleep last night (or is it still night?I awoke at 4am)... Trying not to thing of all the things I should have done before we set the stone on the grave. Felt rushed (it was dark) and now I want to redo things.
I should have written his name on the box
Tigger
March 4, 1997- Dec 15, 2014
Should have written a note to him since I didn't have a chance to say my goodbyes before I left the house. Tell him how much I'll miss his scratching up the walls, well, not really... carving his 'name' on the molding of our doors, yowling at night waking us up at 2am, dragging our socks/underwear/knit jerseys up from the cellar only to plop them along the hall and then yowl to alert us that he'd brought us 'presents' (must have been a frustrated mouser)- although I won't miss the fresh 'holes in the t-shirts' that this procedure caused. At least he's gotten out of the stages where he'd swipe at your ankles/face when you got too close. My mom used to shriek when he'd come bounding in to the bathroom as she entered it. Jumped on the toilet, then to the sink for a drink. You'd put the water on, just a slight dribble, then he'd take his good old time, prowling around the sink getting in JUST the right position to dip his head under the sink for his drink. Sometimes, I'd get too impatient and shut the dripping off before he got there. I guess I won't have to scold Lee for leaving the water dripping hours later. He never remembered to shut it off.
I should have put a pillow in the box for him to be comfortable (even though I know his spirit has gone up to heaven), put a few of his favorite things (at least a tinfoil ball) in the box, but I just didn't want to look at a dead cat unless I knew he looked like he was sleeping. And I really didn't want anyone else to have to check first either. I think Malakai was curious to see him in there. (Is he really in there?). I noticed he looked at the box as I held it, craning to see if he could see anything in the hole in the side (I think it was a carrying handle, but I didn't use it as such. I should have petted him one last time. Should have let Malakai write him a note. Or a heart. Or just drew a picture on the box, but the thought that Tigger was actually IN the box while we're writing on it would have skeeved me out. I told him I really would miss him, even though he could be a pain in the ass at times. Glad I got to tell Leslie. After all, it was her cat. I'm glad Lee dug a deep hole in the backyard, but wished it wasn't in front of the compost pile... maybe it should be off to the side near the fence. Really want to go out and re dig the hole, which really wasn't big enough and so the box was laying on an angle (now I really am not sure if he's comfy the way it's leaning- should have taken the time to widen the hole, but knew it was hard for Lee to dig it because of the roots in the ground, then we could have reset it. Flat. And he'd be comfortable. But that's emotion...I know in my head that he doesn't feel anything in there. His spirit is already gone...but the 'vessel' that God gives us to live on this earth with should be more respected. I'll have to write on the VT slate that we put on the dirt after we buried him. Maybe that's where we can put our messages to him.
I'll do better when Squeak goes.... I thought HE was the one to go this time. He'll be missing his brother, I'm sure. Even though he picked on Tigger enough. We always said we won't replace them when they go.
Maybe tomorrow I'll sleep better. And the next night. And we'll get used to having one cat, not two. Now we'll KNOW who is getting into mischief, or who's having issues we need to relay to a vet. Squeak, I think you're getting too old to get into much mischief, but maybe I'll be more lenient when you do...
Sometimes the hardest thing you can do is say goodbye.
Goodbye, Tiggs...
