Peace In The Margins

There is always that one day. You know, the one where every moment feels like your heart is being ripped from your chest and you struggle to breathe. A day where you wish you could make the tears cease to fall. Well, I’ve had that day.

After a life-long love affair with dogs of any breed, DH and I ventured into the world of cats. Our pit-mix companion of 12 years, Jordan, grew old and ultimately crossed that rainbow bridge. It hurt but was expected. With her family right beside her, we kissed and petted and bid her farewell. We cried a little and grieved – but we understood – we had prepared ourselves as best we could for the arrival of that day.

And when we went home without her with us, we cuddled with our black cat, Osiris and cried.

About six months passed, and while I was on an assignment at Animal Services, this little striped gray and cream kitten “called to me.” At least, that what everyone says. He did grab my attention, almost like he reached into my soul and spoke to me. Out of the hundred or so cats and kittens in that place, something about him caught my eye.

DH and I had talked about a companion for Osiris, but we hadn’t been ready to open up our hearts again. Yet I couldn’t leave that little gray kitten behind, so I made arrangements to foster, and hopefully become what’s known as a foster fail (that means we’d keep him).

It was a touch dicey for a week or so as the two felines got to know each other, but once the newness passed, they were amazing to watch. Playful, loving, cuddled up with each other to sleep. We dubbed him Dorian Gray.

Dorian was a goofy, rambunctious, cuddle bug. He had no desire to be picked up, but you could pet him all day long. He needed to be the center of attention, even when you were trying to fall asleep. If Osiris was picking on him – because she is definitely the alpha cat in the house – then Dorian would run to me…his safe place.

So, yesterday, when he took a terrible turn for the worse, we rushed him to our vet. Devastated. That’s the only word I can think of, and it isn’t near strong enough. I’m utterly devastated.

A few hours after we dropped him off, the doctor called me. She explained that he’s in really bad shape and in a lot of distress. She wasn’t certain without running tests but thinks he could have a congenital liver issue. She went on to tell me that even if she can determine the problem, she isn’t sure she can save him.

With shattered hearts, we made the toughest decision ever and let him go. Just like with Jordan, we were all with him when we said good-bye. He was my little baby boy, and I am going to miss his stepping all over me wake-up calls, and his cute little meows when he demanded my attention, and all the trouble he would get into.

In one short year, Dorian Gray stole my heart, and I’ll never be the same. You are missed Li’l Buddy.