14 Jul 08 Monday
Little Kitty died yesterday, July 13, 2008, Sunday, around 4:15 in the afternoon. I recall we found Kitty under a tree also on a Sunday, exactly two weeks ago, and we brought her into our apartment at around the same time in the afternoon - also after a brief downpour, just after typhoon Frank’s visit.
We buried little Kitty by 5 o’clock in the afternoon, between the roots of the big tree where we first found her - visible from our window. It was also just after a brief downpour, a signal of the arrival of a new typhoon, Helen.
We placed a big old hollow block on Kitty’s grave, which we can see from our window. We buried her wrapped in the purple and gold thread silky blouse that she loved so much to nestle in whenever we go out with her in her small carry basket.
It is raining now. A very sad day - the rain reminds me of little Kitty’s meowing outside, under that big tree. Trevor told me that he could almost hear her crying when it rained.
I have been crying almost all day Saturday over sick Kitty, crying again almost all Sunday afternoon and evening when Kitty died - cried to sleep and cried to wake up again.
Sometimes in bed I think she is still beside me. I’ve cleared up some of little Kitty’s things in our bedroom, and the little towels she used that I washed and hung up inside the house to dry. I am reminded if how much we have let Kitty take over the whole house, over our lives.
That is why losing Kitty - surely one of so many others out there - have such a powerful impact on our lives. We’ve started building our life and time and work around her - bottle feeding her, keeping her warm, pooing and peeing her, playing with her, worrying about her whenever we went out, taking her along with us if we would be out for a long time, buying her food and other kitten things. We were also worrying and planning who would take care of her when we leave a week for Singapore, and when we visit Bohol again in August. We were getting ready to re-shape our whole life around her.
Now Kitty’s gone, it is like there is this big hole in our life - the apartment is absent the little meowing. She may have been a pain in the ass, waking us up every hour at night to cuddle and feed her - but losing her makes us feel a strange melancholy pain. Trevor told me that losing Kitty reminded him of the time when I left, which was extremely difficult for him too.
Sunday evening, Trevor and I went out for a walk, to talk about everything and to comfort each other over Kitty’s death. Along the way, we saw a cat walking over a pile of rocks and behind her followed two young kittens - one white like the mother and the other gray like the father (we assumed a larger gray cat walking ahead of them was the father).
The kittens slowly followed the mother, struggling through the rubble, climbing and jumping. They were probably 2 or 3 months old, old enough to run around and climb small heights, but still young enough to want to be with their mother. Trevor and I thought mom was taking her kids out for some adventure, some survival training in the urban jungle.
It is extremely depressing to think that Kitty never will grow up to be a big strong cat, and have kittens for her to look after.
We visited my mom today - I bought all of Kitty’s leftover food for George and Fortun. Unfortunately, George wasn’t around - probably because there was housework going on, someone was repainting the interior of the house, and George often disliked visitors and racket. Fortun was there, though, sleeping on the chair under the dining table. I put some cat food in a bowl and he woke up immediately when the aroma reached him. Fortun quickly followed me to the open court where he devoured the food.
I was so happy to see Fortun - who was very sick twice this year, everyone thought he was going to die - but he pulled through. He looked so big and healthy now, his coat so thick and beautiful. Alwin told me that Fortun has 7 more lives left.
When our cats get very sick, they usually “go away”, some kind of “taking leave” - they go to the back of the house or the back garden and stay away from us as much as possible. They only go back into the house to drink water - an indication that they are going to survive.
Kitty “went away” too. After the midnight visit to the vet, we placed her next to our bed, on some towels over a hot water bottle to keep her warm. usually, she’d get up and walk towards the bed to be with us, but that time, she weakly walked away from the bed. Trevor noticed that and found it strange and indeed sad because it was a sign that Kitty was saying goodbye.
During her dying moment, I placed Kitty in her favorite shiny purple “blanket” and put that on a shiny blue pillow an all that on our bed. At that time Trevor was out to get us some dinner, groceries and oil for Kitty’s tummy. I lay beside little Kitty and watched her face, her eyes open and mouth slightly open, tiny sounds coming out from it. I fixed my eyes on her eyes, I knew that she could see me. They were sad, dry eyes, no longer glowing, dying eyes.
I cried so much, like how I cried when my father died, how I cried when Trevor and I were separated. It’s just a kitten, I know, but the bond was already there.
On the way home today, Trevor and I briefly talked about the work I need to do for the summit and conference in Singapore next week. All that work won’t bring Kitty back, I said. Trevor asked if I’d give up the work to have Kitty back - I said yes. In fact, I was contemplating on canceling the trip if we had to look after Kitty at home.
Kitty - in less than two weeks - brought so much joy to our life - simple immense joy that I never really got from work or career.
Kitty inside her little yellow carrying basket on the table with me and Trevor at the gender advocacy meeting in Isis. Thanks to Pretchie for the photo. Also for the photo below.
15 July 08 Tuesday
When I woke up this morning I took a quick look outside to see Kitty’s “grave marker” under the tree. I always half expect to see a tiny kitten there. My expectation was nearly realized - I saw a black and white thing moving near Kitty’s grave marker - it was a female cat, a stray, her belly sagging - from numerous kitten-births perhaps. She passed Kitty’s tree, then towards the tree beside it, then out through the gap on the wire fence to the streets.
Last night, Trevor and I talked about the lessons learned from Kitty’s short visit to our home, the joys of having Kitty into our life even if for just a short time. Trevor seemed most fascinated about how I was able to take care of another living thing.Yes, perhaps given the opportunity and the responsibility, I can be very involved in the process of caring. It was good to be re-acquainted with death again too, so as to experience the preciousness of life.
Goodbye, Kitty, thank you for coming to our life.
