When I was born, my cat, Buddy, slept under my crib (and sometimes in it with me, if my mother didn't catch him). When I was 6 months old (yes, 6 months) I started sleeping in a small antique bed on my own (I kept escaping my crib.. even when mama lowered the bed and raised the sides). Buddy would sleep with me. He was a shy cat, and, previously my big brother's, was now mine... or rather, I was his. Over the years, Buddy became my best friend, other than my mama. We had plenty of cats on the farm, due to people just dumping them off (we had about 16 all together, Buddy being the only one inside, at one point). I grew to be very attatched to my baby Buddy. So, when my parents got divorced (thankfully), and we moved, I was dissapointed that taking Buddy could result in a feline heart-attack. He was an old cat, about 14 years old,  and had never left the house. So, I got to see him every other weekend, or every other week during the summer. About two years ago, when Buddy was 17 years old, he started getting really sick. He was senile, and was using the kitchen counter for a bathroom (which my father didn't clean up, causing the first call to the DFS). He went in my room and curled up on my bed. He fell asleep, waiting for me to come home. Just typing this here is making me cry... Anyway... when I got to my father's house, I went to my room, threw my bag on my bed, turned on my light, and left the room. I went around the house, searching for Buddy. I started to get worried. Well.. we had rented movies that night (dad actually spent money on us.. he picked out the movies) and we came across a debate concerning the goose-down sleeping bag on my bed. Braden went to prove his point... and found my baby... peaceful in a very deep sleep. Dad said, "He's probably dead..." I had to see for myself... I had to say goodbye to my baby.. even if I didn't really want to... I saw him, then I hit a wall, started shaking and crying, and I fell to the floor. Dad, I think, actually chuckled and said, "Its okay, he was just old and sick." He put my baby in a Wal-Mart bag and put him outside the front door to be buried on the next afternoon. I was terribly upset. Dad later said he was sorry and hugged me, and was actually being a dad.... untill he tried to make me sleep in my room... on that bed... because he wanted the couch. I refused... we argued... and he whined and complained and tried to throw me into a guilt trip, untill he finally moped off upstairs. I never slept in that bed after Buddy died. It took me almost a year before I stopped going to the house completely (not because the cat died, although circumstances concerning that event did attribute to the cause).

I love Buddy. But,  I love my baby I have now. Her name is Mischa. Like Buddy, she is a siamese. She's beautiful. She "picked" me out of the family, just like Buddy. She even sleeps in my room. I'm definately a cat lover... you can't say I'm not.

PoeticRejection PoeticRejection
26-30, F
5 Responses Jul 14, 2007

Oh, well, sorry to make you sad! But, its true about pet-love. Its no different for any pet. I love my dog as well. She is a Syberian Husky; white with ice blue eyes. She is beautiful. Thank you for your kind words and may you have a wonderful day!

Aww...it made me feel so sad reading this. Although im a dog lover and i've never had a cat..but then again,how different can pet-love get. Sorry about Buddy :( I hope Mischa loves u as much.

Lets hope thats not for a long time, SWATaddikt!

R.I.P. Buddy! What a sweet cat. I will probably go crazy when my cat dies, too.

LOL, my cat took a dump at the foot of my bed when I was younger. I don't know why, but your post reminded me. I thought it was funny. :P