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May. 18th, 2008 @ 11:52 pm
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As I entered the house, my father emerged from my parents' bedroom, wrapping himself in a warm dressing-gown as he approached.
"Why were the pool room lights on?" I asked cheerfully. Someone had flicked the inside switch, or something. I turned them off.
"I have something to tell you," he said heavily. Something inside me froze solid.
He had tears in his eyes as he told me that Tabitha - well, the theory is she got hit by a car. She was seriously injured. They had her put down.
Tabitha is dead.
That's her, back when she lived in my bedroom because Spike hated her and kept attacking her. She hid under my bedcovers - I always had to check for lumps before I sat on my bed. I kept a water glass just for her, and grew to love her. Even though she kept walking on my keyboard.
I made a comic using pictures I took of her.
I bitched at and about her a lot, but I loved her. She was my cat, for a while, my frequent companion. I'd dried tears on her fur and teased her with treats - biltong, her one true love. She once bit my lip trying to steal it out of my mouth, she loved it that much.
She liked some strange things, like corn on the cob (hilarious to watch a kitten eat), once she stole some of my spaghetti, that kind of thing.
I'll miss her. I complained about her bugging me all the time, but it was kind of comforting to have her there - if she wasn't bugging me, I'd sometimes do something I knew would draw her out so that she would.
She was young, she was beautiful, she was cared for.
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