My wonderful little kitty, my dearest Daffodil darling, has passed away today. Below is a selection of the very few pictures I have of her.
A few days ago, my dearest Daffodil darling got sick with feline infectious peritonitis (FIP), which is a disease that mostly affects cats from three months to two years old. It is nearly 100% fatal. Sadly, my lovely kitty was right in that age range. My parents took her to the vet a few hours ago, where she painlessly passed away. FIP would have resulted in a very painful and inevitable death, so doing this was the best for her. According to the little informations sheet from the vet, FIP has two variants: "dry" and "wet," the latter of which was my favorite little kitty's affliction. Before my parents took her to the vet and we found out her fate, I thought that she had either eaten far too much and too fast or had worms based on how bloated she looked. She was a small cat (about as tall as a daffodil, actually) and the bloating was quite severe.
Today, when I came home after taking an exam at college, I found the paper detailing her affliction on the kitchen table. At first I didn't comprehend what was happening, but then I went to the living room and my dad told me that yes, it's true. Daffodil was soon to die. I didn't feel anything, then. I didn't feel anything for a few hours. My perfect little Daffodil was lying down all cuddled up in her little bed, looking rather sleepy.
I ran my hand over her soft black fur a few times, petting my kitty. I could feel her spine underneath my hand, thanks to how she was curled up. I petted her and said to her, "Thank you for hanging out with me. Thank you for hanging out with me." and then went to my bedroom to be alone.
Then, about half an hour later, my dad came to my room and told me that he and my step-mom would be bringing her to the vet. He asked if I was okay and I said that I was fine. Once he closed the door, once I heard his footsteps sound down the stairs, I couldn't help but cry. Soon after, I got up and drove out to run an errand to pick up a medication, but really it was to go to a local restaurant. At times I go there with my friends when they're over, but when I'm alone I only ever go there when I feel just fucking awful and I can't yet cry. I don't remember the last times I went there for this, but I felt just as bad.
After that, I came home, and my dear friend didn't greet me by the door. My step-mom was sat in the kitchen with my step-brother, clearly having cried, but I couldn't talk to her. I walked to my bedroom, where my lovely little friend didn't greet me on my way either. I didn't say it, not out loud or even in my head, but I felt that I was asking a question just by passing by, "Where has my dearest Daffodil darling gone? Where has my friend left to? Will she be away for long? Will her journey be safe? Has she went away in comfort and happiness and filled with the feeling that she is loved for every moment that she knew, without a single worry in her life aside these strange feelings in her chest and stomach? Does she know that I miss her? Does she know that I love her? Does she know that she is my friend?"
It all brings to mind a song I wrote for my book. I may end up changing it, especially the "time's not superfluous" line since that breaks syllable structure, but oh well. This is sung between Aili and Tsntsn and is not really a love song in most senses of the word. They do love each other, but the song is not really about romantic love.
ere long all days will end at last
night of the world and of my friends
hand in hand we will live our past
soon our love never ends
after cold stormy rains
ere long we will wear down and slow
no longer would we sail or fly
mushrooms on our faces will grow
in soft comforts we will die
buried aside our loves
ere long you and I will reminisce
that the world has moved on past us
but days together we won’t miss
time’s not superfluous
and time with you is best
so Tsntsn, stay with me longer
till that distant day when we’re home
we’ll live our lives and grow stronger
so we won’t have to roam
the heavens by ourselves
I am not spiritual or religious and thus do not believe in an afterlife, but I do have some wishful thinking about what I hope it feels like to die. I got this idea from some person on tumblr. I connect very strongly with it. I hope that dying will feel just the same as when your parents had a party at your house when you were a kid; you got tired and your parents carried you to your room and laid you down in your bed. You could still hear the laughter coming from the other room.
And so I must wonder: is that what Daffodil felt? No. The chances of feeling exactly that that are zero. But, in a non-literal sense, it's completely true. She was well-fed, thoroughly loved and intricately cared for; my step-mom brushed her teeth every day and brushed her fur even more, and I played with her as much as I could. I think she had the best life that she could have possibly had, no matter how short it was. I hope she felt no pain in the whole time that we had her. I hope that she had had a happy life. In whatever way it is that cats can feel loved, I hope she felt that and more. I hope she feels warm. I hope she hears my laughter in her ever-lasting dreams.
Go back to: the walkway , the main page.