Something terrible has happened. My darling cat Chester has tragically and unexpectedly passed away. It happened on Thursday March 15th, and it started with a phone call at 7:27am from my distressed house mate. I was staying with Josh in the city the previous night and was going to go to work in the morning, so i was surprised to hear from him at such an early hour. The phone call was to tell me that he had found Chester in the driveway, not alive. Of course I freaked out. I thought I might vomit. I didn't know what to do. He came to get me which is a good move as walking in the rain and catching 2 trains back home then walking home to find my cat would not be great.
When we got back, I was relieved to see that he had seen to my wishes that Chester be covered up so he wouldn't be rained on. He and a neighbour wrapped him and put him in a crate, then placed him in my garage. It was there in the cold and musty garage that I could kneel next to him and really cry as I gently stroked the fur on is leg. The grief was strange and overpowering, this is the first dead body I have really been around. I only touched him gently because if I applied pressure I felt the un-natural stiffness of his muscle which disturbed me. His tail upset me further because it was up in the air, and his eyes wide open. I felt like he couldn't be gone because he looked so complete, the only thing missing was inside, and snuffed out so quickly and mysteriously.
This is the first pet that I have had full responsibility for, and it was up to me to make sure I always do the right thing by him. I blamed myself of course - for getting another kitten, leading to his surliness and aggression towards both me and Peanut, and the panic he displayed when I tried to keep him inside the house or worse- in my room to sleep on my bed like old times. I figured I had caused him to want to be outside and get in cat fights for the first time in his life and get these infections. I thought he may have had a bad reaction to the very recent flea treatments. The vet had recently told me that he was in good health. He had a heart murmur which could be a problem though. My neighbour believes that the electrical storms that night had frightened him to death. I would like to believe that too. Better than another fight or an infection or him being hit. I feel like he didn't know he was going to die because he was out in the open. I thought cats disappeared to die. I guess it's all speculation.
That day I also dug my first, and hopefully last, grave. I furiously tried to dig it all myself but the hard clay got the better of me and my house mate and i took turns. It took forever but finally I could lay Chester to rest in the place he always loved to nap. The rest of the day involved constantly teary eyes, some grief beers, visiting a nursery with my family to pick a commemorative plant for the spot, and staring into nothingness for long periods of time. I settled on some nice purple flowering plants so that one day I can cut them to remember him.
Well, that was one of the shittest days ever, but I wanted to write about it because over the years I have written lots about Chester. He was loved by so many people, and my neighbours are all very sad to see him gone too. Such a terrible shame, and I wish it never happened. But, what can you do. That's life, as they say. Bye Bye Chester.
