June 29, 2006
A wonderful, beautiful little guy.
That's Eggs. He was abandoned in front of my apartment- a strip of landscaping about 20'x4'- he and his sister in Seattle, around June of 2000. They were both covered with fleas. Tiny little kittens, covered with fleas, abandoned in front of some junior one bedrooms on Capital Hill.
I would have never met him if it weren't for that. It was random, and I'm lucky to have been in the right place at the right time. He died today, we had to put him to sleep. I tried to hold him close. He was sedated, but scared. He wanted to fight, and he did as much as he possibly could, which was nothing more than trying to keep his arm close to himself. I tried to hold him close. I hope it was close enough.
There was no good way to do it, it just had to be done. We had a good day, but he was slowly- no, quickly, actually- quickly getting worse. He was only six years old, and this shouldn't have happened. If there's any such thing as cosmic fairness, this wasn't fair. His life was animated, immediate, and he lived on his own crazy little cat terms. He got cancer. It was random and unfair and... wrong. He deserved so much more, he was so extrordinary. I dreamed of knowing him in his old age. I looked forward to living with him and our relationship growing, because it always was, it was always changing. We were a family, he made up a big part of it. He was just a little cat, but he meant so much.
His name was Eggs, and I was lucky, so very lucky to have known him.