House without a Soul

So, with all the fight and struggle and energy into saving our nine year old dog from cancer, then fate hits us with a big ironic slap in the face. Last night we lost our cat. He was hit by a car. He wasn't even three years old.

Now I know to some of you, losing a cat may not seem like that big of a deal. Some people aren't cat people. Some people don't understand. But to me, a cat gives a house a soul. This cat, Indiana (Indy for short), was an amazing cat. He was, frankly, the best cat I have ever had. He had the right amount of playfulness, adventure, cuddlyness, beauty, grace, and just...personality. He definitely gave our house a soul. It seemed like, whatever we were doing, there he was. Wandering around the kitchen while we cooked dinner. Sitting with us on the couch while we watched TV. Purring on my stomach (lately I was telling him how much the baby loved it when he made her home vibrate). Greeting me in the morning. Sleeping on my pillow at night.

Normally he was an indoor-only cat. But recently, we've been breaking our own rules and letting him go outside a bit. He only ever went out for about 5-10 minutes tops, and we were convinced he wasn't leaving the walled fortress of our yard. Now, I hate myself for that decision.

Last night I was sound asleep, when my husband woke up me with a broken, panicked sound in his voice. "I think Indy was hit by a car." Somehow I just knew he was right. All I wanted to do was go back to sleep so it wasn't true. But I followed him outside. I came out the front door just in time to see him coming in our front gate, carrying Indy. I thought, "Oh good, he's okay." I don't know why I thought that. He laid him on the front steps....ugh. I can still see him. He looked like he was sleeping, except for the blood in his mouth. Just...sleeping. It must have just happened, because when I touched him, he felt like he was sleeping. He was so warm and so soft. I am sorry. I am going to stop myself here because I feel like I am going to give too many details of something that is still so fresh in my mind.

Long story short, he is gone. So quickly. No time to process it. Such a damn shock. I keep forgetting and looking to see if he's going to jump on the bed with me or walk down the hall to say hi. I keep thinking a half-thought, "Wait a second, wasn't there something I was supposed to remember about the cat?" And then I remember. He's dead.

We lost our cat of six years before we got Indiana. That was hard. But this is harder. For some reason, he wheedled his way into our family so much faster and deeper and now the house just feels empty. I know it will get better with time. But right now I keep feeling like I'm not sure how to process what happened.

Monte had a big vet appointment today. At the last appointment she had said she wasn't sure if he was responding well enough to the chemo and we may have to "make some decisions" this week. Both of us had the same thought - that we might suddenly find ourselves as a pet-less family. So my husband took the day off (I don't work Thursdays) to come to the appointment with me. Just in case. But luckily, we got GOOD NEWS. Monte is still okay.

Anyhow, thank you for reading. It feels good to just write about it to make it feel more real. Every time I start talking about it in real life I get so upset that I have to stop and distract myself or I'm worried it will be bad for the baby. Really, I don't think I was in the best mental state to handle this right now. So, thanks for listening.

I'm going to leave you with some pictures....