It’s been seven months
since our Tyeborg died
and nobody
sleeps in the beanbag
anymore.
We still remember the moment
when he realized it could be a cat bed:
one of our friends was visiting
and sat in the beanbag
and left an indentation after getting up
And Tye had looked on with great curiosity
while the human sat there
And after the human left
Tye climbed in.
After we moved into this house
we kept the beanbag under the table in the front room
and it became his little cat-cave
Alice joined him sometimes
but Tye was often there alone
curled up
A void in shadow
Our comfy boy
He lived longer than any cat we’ve had
almost seventeen years
and that last year and a half
wrestled away from death
with radiation and pills
A whole raft of medications
a tiny life raft
for our tiny borg
And with love.
As much love as we could give him
As much time as we could buy him
All the while knowing
it would never be enough.
I slept with him
that last night
on the couch
encouraging him to eat wet food
or Churu
making sure he drank water
watching and counting his breaths per minute
imagining the watery beat of his enlarged heart
Knowing we’d given him the best life we could
Knowing we’d done everything we could
to give him more
Knowing it would never be enough.
He died in the afternoon
I carried his body outside
and said “goodbye borg” for the last time
and “we love you”
and “thank you for being our cat”
and I cried like I’m doing now.
He was the fourth cat we’ve had together
the second we’ve adopted together
He was like any other cat in many ways
He was unlike anyone else we’ve loved.
I am the sum of everything I’ve ever loved
and that is what I want to be
I want to forget
everyone I’ve ever hated
I want to purge my heart
of darkness
and remake myself
of softness and light
I wish the world would let me.
We always know they’ll die
but I remember
More than that last day
So much more
I remember him singing to his tribble at night
and talking in his baby bird chirp voice
I remember him
stretching his toes and showing the white fur hidden there between the black
him loping up and down the halls
of the carpeted apartment
of this hard-floored house
basking in sunlight out on the catio
sitting up in his carrier as we drove to and from many vet appointments
being sensitive to loud TV noises
cuddling with Alice
flopping on top of us
sleeping in our bed with us
I remember so much
and it will never be enough.
We still have all his many medications
capsules and tablets and inhalers and others
organized and jarred
in the cat closet
We still keep the beanbag under the table
even though
nobody sleeps there anymore
Everything that was Tye’s
will always be his.
Everything that Tye was
will always stay with us
even though
he’s sleeping
somewhere else now.
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