A Final Farewell

Am I writing a goodbye/eulogy to my cat? Yes I am. Will people think I'm crazy? Probably. I however, am totally fine being called a crazy cat lady. Saying goodbye to my companion who has been with me for almost 15 years takes more than just verbally uttering those words. Anyone who has had a pet knows the bond that you create with your animal, and any mental health advocate understands how important animals can be for our minds. So by that logic, I'm not really crazy at all... In fact I'm pretty normal.

To my sweet Martin,

I still remember the first time I saw you. I was at PetSmart in March 2006, my sophomore year of college, and you were available for adoption. You looked up at me from the bottom row of cages and gave me what I call the Puss In Boots face. When I saw those big, green eyes of yours, I knew I had to have you. Even though humans are the ones who adopt the animals, I have often heard it said that the animals actually pick you, which in this case is totally accurate. Since I was still back and forth between school and home, I had to ask my parents' permission and at first, they said no. I was devastated and started to cry. A little while later, my parents called me back and told me I could adopt you. I ran from my dorm room to my car (and you know how much I dislike running) and drove the 45+ minutes from school to the Lancaster PetSmart to fill out the paperwork. Then, I got to hold you for the first time and I remember saying "I'm going to be your mommy".

Even though for the first half of your life, you lived in a house with my parents and two other cats, your bond was always strongest with me. When I was away at school and called home, I would hear you meow in the background and mom would tell me that you came over to her when you heard my voice on the phone. I don't know how many nicknames I had for you, but there were lots. Rolley, Rolleysaurus Rex, Snugglesaurus Rex, Chunk, Sweet Roll, and my favorite, which I made up just for you - Snugget - because you were my little snuggle nugget. You had such a unique and likable personality. You weren't the stereotypical snobby and aloof cat - you were sweet and loving. There were multiple times where people told me that they aren't cat people, but then they would meet you and say, "okay I don't usually like cats, but Martin is cool".

On July 22, 2013, I settled on my first home. I had no idea that exactly 7 years later, I would lose you. For most of the time that I have lived in my house, I was single, or in a neglectful relationship and you were my one and only companion. You were always ready to snuggle and were a total mama's boy. Most people wouldn't use the word "protective" to describe a cat, but you, in your own special way, tried to warn me when I was dating someone who you knew wasn't treating me right. On 3 separate occasions, you peed on his clean laundry (one of those times you were staring right at him 🤣). I should have taken the hint, but months later, when that relationship ended, you were right there by my side. After that, my mom told me that I better listen to you from now on and that you better like whoever I marry.

During my lowest points of life - my depression, suicide attempt and then dad's suicide - you were one of the few things that could help me feel a little bit better. Your presence, purring and meowing were calming. Petting you was very therapeutic. Since I'm an introvert, you were the perfect companion; always right by my side, but I didn't have to talk. You knew what I needed because you felt it. I could cry and you would loyally be there with me. If I needed to talk, I could, but I could also be silent and it wasn't a problem. I spent countless hours napping with you - one of our favorite spots being the chair in front of the fireplace. I don't think there was ever a night that you weren't up on the bed with me while I slept. I remember getting out of my car in the garage and I could hear you inside meowing for me, excited that I was home.

In the last year or so, I could see that you were no longer able to jump places that you used to jump, and your walking was slower and wobblier. Eventually, you stayed strictly upstairs because you couldn't do the steps. I knew you were getting older and slowing down, but it was a place mentally that I didn't want to go. I knew that in due course, your time would come, but I didn't want to think about it. I wanted to enjoy every last minute that I had with you, and do whatever I could to keep you healthy and safe. When I got home from Montana and saw your condition, I truly thought the time had come to put you down. I didn't want to do it, but I also didn't want you in pain. You surprised me when in the hours before we were going to go to the vet, you looked up at me and essentially said "I'm still here!!". You had mustered your strength and energy to show me it wasn't your time just yet.

I had 3 weeks with you from when you had your stroke until you passed, and I am grateful for that time. Had you died when I got home from Montana, I forever would have wondered if it was my fault that your condition had deteriorated, or I would have always said "what if I was home?". I am glad that you held on, and that I spent so much of that time with you. I know that 15 years is a long life for a cat, and I know that I did everything possible to give you a good, comfortable life. Most of all, I know that I always showed you and told you how much I loved you.

I miss you every day and the house does not feel the same without you there, but I am glad that you aren't in any pain, and you no longer have to deal with a body that just doesn't work anymore. You were such a special, irreplaceable part of my life, and you'll never know how much you did for me and how much I appreciate it. I love you, my sweet baby kitty!

Love,

Mama