Farewell LIl' Buddy

"What, you want to sit here? I'm busy."
RIP Silas aka "Pudding".
April 1, 2011 -- June 14, 2021

Deke's Note: Tonight, I am emotionally spent. Sure, it's my weekend and I should be enjoying it. Except for one horrifying and sad point of reality, I am.

He has been with us since he was a wee lad of six weeks. His mother either died or abandoned her litter, which is unnatural at best. From Day One, when a school bus operator found five newborns in the Willamette bus barn and hustled the surviving two baby brothers to Paws Shelter, he was hand-fed and coddled. 

On the way home from adopting this wee fella, he crawled all over me as I drove us home. Purring in my ear, knocking my hat off and digging his kitten claws into my shoulders, he chose me as his favorite human. I reciprocated. He has been my constant companion throughout this blog, as I put together my book... he insisted on loving me. I have responded in kind. 

We have endured a love-hate relationship: he loved to make a mess of his litter box and watching me clean up after him. Silas pestered me until I shared my dinner, then insisted I feed him wet food before heading to bed. If his water bowl was stale, he would tip it over and feign innocence. Wherever I wanted to sit, he beat me to the spot and dared me to move him. I still have scars from our disagreements.

Now, he's dying. Only 10 years old, middle-aged for a cat. My son used to let him out at night when we lived across the street. Silas would roam, then meow outside my lad's window until he let him back inside. We have kept him indoors, fed him special food, endured his frequent urinary troubles and scolded him for terrorizing Lady Kitten. He has moved with us twice. When I come home from a long shift driving a bus, PuddinTat is the first to greet me, demanding to be held so he can purr in my ear and knock my eyeglasses askew with affection. It's something I look forward to. This week, for the first time in a decade, he will no longer be here to welcome me home.

Today, we have to say goodbye. His health problems have become too aggressively expensive to maintain. Having dosed him with the last pain meds on hand, he lay in my wife's arms for two hours. He snuggled me as I held him, purring through his drug-induced daze. Tears dull my vision as I write this, because I know next time I write you, he won't be here stepping on the keyboard demanding attention.

People refer to pets as "fur babies" and other such cutesy names. Silas is simply my buddy. We have argued, loved and endured a decade together. Now, he's in too much pain to hold onto any longer. Devastated I may be to lose him, it would be cruel to allow him to endure any more suffering.

When I drive this next week and you happen to catch me en route, please don't be offended if I don't wave. Look closer and you'll see tears flowing down my cheek. For when I lose a friend, it's okay to cry. I'm doing it now, and he's snuggled close to me.

So long, you annoying, lovable little fucker. I will miss you most assuredly more than you will me.