We've lost our dear cat Reggie. He was 15 and had steadily lost weight over the last year. It could have been kidney disease or cancer. It was obvious this past week that he was unhappy and uncomfortable. He was having trouble walking, and, by Saturday, he'd stopped eating and just lay in the bathroom next to the heating vent, seeking warmth.
So, Monday afternoon, I took the dreaded trip to the vet, and he died peacefully in my arms. Yesterday, we buried him in the bed I knitted for him, among the shrubs at the corner of the riding ring, where he won't ever be disturbed. Today, there's a thick blanket of snow over his grave.
Reggie was a big cat, with a personality to match. Don called him a miniature puma. He was all love; I've never seen a more affectionate cat. He slept beside me every night, often under the covers, with my arms around him. He would gaze into my eyes and stroke my face with his paw. It was eerie how human he seemed sometimes. I think in a previous life he was a very good man who, as a reward, was reincarnated as a cat.
Originally from Colorado, he lived with me in Maine before settling with us in Wisconsin. For years, he was the one I came home to. He was what made it home. He grew to love Don, but he made it clear that he expected to have me to himself once the lights went out. He would wait for our final cuddle before sleep, then I'd roll over, and he'd snuggle into my arms for the night.
Reggie welcomed two little sisters into the family...first dignified Luna, who died unexpectedly three years ago, and later rambuctious Sophie. There wasn't a mean bone in his body, and, although he outweighed them almost 2:1, he always let them win wrestling matches. He never could accept Cadi the Labrador, no matter how many times she tried to make friends.
Reg's final months were not how I'd envisioned. I'd always planned to give him the best care possible and dote on him as the end came near. Since Sarah came home, however, I've been preoccupied with her wellbeing and, frankly, somewhat overwhelmed by daily life. I've slept on a twin bed in her room, with the door closed. He had a tendency to yowl, and I lived in fear of his waking Sarah. I even chased him down the hall a few times when he was being loud outside her door during naptime.
He didn't get to sleep with me for the last four months, and Don just didn't cut it. His health declined precipitously after Sarah arrived, and I don't think it was a coincidence. I think he felt pushed aside and neglected. We visited the vet a few times, but it always took me longer than normal to get around to taking him. He wasn't my priority anymore, and that made us both sad.
I'm not saying he died of a broken heart, but given his sensitive nature, I'm sure the new family situation affected his outlook on life. He was as stressed as I was. He lost his best friend and wasn't getting the nurturing he needed and deserved.
Reggie meant the world to me. His health and happiness were my top priority for 15 years. I'm afraid that changed in the 16th. When I look back on our life together, I give him an A+ as a pet. I hope he'd give me at least a B as an owner. I loved him more than I've loved any other animal, and most people. I hope he knew it.
