Goodbye, my sweet boy, with a girl’s name that you never even minded. You came into my life in the summer of 1999, when I was still living in my townhouse in Waldorf. You were born in the spring in a feral colony of cats that I began to care for at the townhouse. When I moved from townhouse in October of that year, you and another cat were the last ones I had neutered. I had to name you before surgery, before I knew what sex you were, and you were sort of ginger-colored. When I found out you were a boy, I just kept the name. I moved you and the other cat to my farm house in Nanjemoy. I put you both in the garage. The other cat escaped. However, you stayed and lived in the attic of the detached garage, and when I came in to feed you and change the litter, you would meow and look down at me from the attic. Finally, after about nine months, you kept coming closer and closer and then you rubbed up against me, and you decided to be friends.
You were always so sweet, you never hissed, or tried to scratch or bite me when I gave you medicine. As the years went by, your feral ways kept calling you to be outside, and you would meow relentlessly to be let out. I finally gave in to your demands, and our entire household was happier because of it. However, you were always still so sweet and loving, and you trusted me completely. When you finally did get to be outside, it wasn’t ever to hunt, just to enjoy the fresh air.
Your best friend was Kiki. Kiki wants nothing to do with going outside. I got Kiki in January 2000. I think you guys are about the same age. You guys loved each other, and bonded so well with each other. I know Kiki is very sad too.
At night when you would meow to go out, I gave in, and without fail, every morning you were right here:
And this morning, when I opened my blinds what I saw was not you in the window, but two Samoyed dogs, and your lifeless body in the driveway. I ran outside, hoping you were okay, but knowing deep down, you were gone. I wrapped a towel around you and picked your still warm body up and brought you into the house, and placed you gently on the dryer.
The dogs were happily content about their business, very friendly to me, and I kept them in the backyard until animal control came.
Some friends came to be with me, and one of them dug you a proper grave in the back yard. However, I had to wait for four hours for Animal Control to come and make a report, and to photograph your wounds. The nice female officer examined you and found three bites on your body. However, there were no witnesses, but it doesn’t matter, you are gone.
The dogs were microchipped, and they live just a few blocks away. Animal control took them away, and their owners have to pay a fine to get their dogs back.
You are never coming back. Heather helped me say goodbye and bury you.
Tomorrow, when I open the kitchen blinds, you won’t be there.
I am so sorry I couldn’t save you.