My mom's house is crawling with cats because of her asshole neighbors who don't think they need to spay or neuter their animals. There are constantly kittens in the backyard, with new ones showing up every few months. Sometimes I try to befriend the kittens. There was one little in particular that I bonded with, 4 orange tabby cats who I named after the Marx Brothers. Shortly after they were comfortable enough with me to let me pet them, a new kitten showed up from the neighbors' house. I tried to chase him away, but he didn't give a damn and stayed put. He eventually became best friends with Groucho, the bravest of the orange tabbies. I named him Bosco Hollingsworth.
When we bought and moved into our new house, we brought Groucho and Bosco with us. This was new for them because they had always been outdoor, borderline feral cats. After the first two days in the house, Groucho disappeared. I don't know what happened to him, and it makes me sad every time I think about it. Bosco was pretty depressed as a result, and Eric and I decided to adopt a cat from the shelter to keep him company.
When I went to look at cats, I fully intended on getting an adult cat, because most people only want kittens and the older ones end up being put down more often than not. It also had to be a female, because Bosco can be territorial and I didn't want him spraying in response to a new boy.
Walking through the kennels, one of the first cages I passed had this teeny little kitten that was part tabby, part calico with gorgeous markings and gigantic eyes and ears. She was the only kitten that was in a cage all by herself; everyone else had a friend. When I passed her cage, she climbed up the door and reached her paw out towards me. I knew I had to hold her, and as soon as I did, she scurried up onto my shoulder and started furiously rubbing my face with hers. I was sold. I named her Minnie-May.
I was almost 8 months pregnant when I brought Minnie home and she became my constant companion. She would sleep for hours on my belly and on my chest and at night she would tuck herself under my chin and lick my nose to wake me up. When the baby kicked, she would poke at my stomach with her paw and purr like mad. She was kind of crazy sometimes, running up and down the hallway and break-neck speeds, climbing the curtains, and it was impossible to keep her off the counters and table. But I loved her. She kept me company during the end of a very hard pregnancy and I began to think of her as my other baby. I got to pour my love into her until I had my daughter to take care of, and in a lot of ways Minnie helped me make it through the last month.
After Clara was born, I felt really guilty about neglecting my cat duties. Minnie would constantly run across my lap when I was holding Clara, and she always wanted to climb on top of her while she was eating. She wanted to snuggle up with both of us and most of the time I just shoved her off my lap because I didn't want her licking the baby's face. She would always sneak into Clara's crib and cuddle up with her blankets, and even though it was cute, I would get exasperated because then I would have to re-wash all the bedding. I eventually started putting her outside to help her burn off some energy, and she seemed to like it.
Today the cats were constantly underfoot. They literally have this method of getting my attention that consists of them galloping past me and then flopping down on the floor right where I'm about to step so that I can't ignore them. Minnie learned this from Bosco, and today it just pissed me off. Clara had had a bad time the night before and I had hardly any sleep. Today was an early morning rehearsal followed by me feeling feverish and sick, and I just wasn't in the mood to put up with energetic cats, so I kicked them outside. I usually bring Minnie in around dusk, because she's still a baby and I don't want her getting eaten by racoons or anything, but tonight I was distracted doing laundry and dishes. For some reason I had been thinking of vets and had a fleeting thought of, "If anything happened to the cats on the weekend, where would I take them for emergency treatment?"
I asked Eric to go to the grocery store for me. He came back inside a few minutes after leaving and he looked really upset. He said, "I'm totally not joking, but..."
A million thoughts ran through my head. The first was that the car had been broken into or stolen. The second was that he lost the car key (something we went through last week). I wasn't expecting what he said next.
"....I think Minnie's dead. She's laying in the street with blood on her, and I don't think she's breathing."
I couldn't even formulate a sentence, I just put Clara down and put my shoes on. By the time I got outside, Eric had moved Minnie onto the hood of the car. I couldn't even look at her face to see how much blood there was, I could tell by the way she was curled up that she was dead. She appeared to have been hit by a car, and whoever it was just left in the middle of the street directly in front of our house. It's not that surprising that she was hit because she liked to run underneath parked cars and stalk people as they walked down the sidewalk. But it is inconceivable to me that someone would hit an animal and then not go to at least one house to see if it was someone's pet. I realize that California law doesn't mandate this for cats, but... come on.
Anyway, Eric and I spent the better part of the evening crying and feeling miserable. I'm sad for a lot of reasons, but mainly I can't reconcile the fact that I have been kind of mean to my little kitty for the last two months, and it breaks me heart. All she wanted was love and attention, and I never seemed to have the time. It may seem ridiculous to some people that I'm so emotional over a cat, but I have really never experienced a severe loss of a loved one in my life. Even my other cats that died weren't as hard at this because they were adults, and I never had to see their dead bodies. Minnie was my little angel kitty, and I wish I had treated her better. It really blows that it takes a dead cat to give me some perspective on life, but there it is.
I love you, Minnie-May.
