Buddha has died. He died on January 31st. It’s taken me awhile to be able to write about this.
He had been sick for over a year. He had been vomiting about 3 times a week for months. We discovered that he had lost a lot sensation in the back half of his body and no longer responded to pain. We also discovered what felt like a tumor in his upper abdomen. He had gotten to the point where he couldn’t jump up on the bed to join us – one of his favorite things.
He was the best cat I have ever known. He was a boon companion, kept me warm while I slept, and was extremely docile and forgiving. He welcomed the kids into the house and was content to bide his time until they were old enough to worship him as he felt he deserved. He loved to have his belly rubbed, would come running if he heard the can opener come out of the drawer, and felt is was his life’s mission to make sure Mark Carlson got up every morning at 5am to feed him.
I am finding that I missing him in ways I didn’t think I would. I am waking up earlier than I normally do because he’s not in bed to snuggle. I am catching myself quickly peeking into the bedroom to see if he is on the bed. I dump the laundry on the bed and think “I’ve got to get this folded quick before Buddha lays on it.”
To say that I will miss him is an understatement. I was there when he was born, Mark and I bottle fed him, and we were there 16 years later at the end. It was a wonderful 16 years. The Buddha has died. Long live The Buddha.