A Special Good Bye

I'm going to be selfish on this post and just reflect on this depressing week. As if bad weather and power outages wasn't enough this week, and as if the sick toddler who had to stay home from daycare for 3 days still wasn't enough, my beloved kitty had to be put to rest.

Weasel was born behind my couch 18 years ago and I fell in love with her as soon as I saw her tiger stripes. She was my special, precious pet, and she always knew it. When Aidan was born, it didn't take her long to realize that she would have to share my lap, attention, and time with the little human and all the nervous energy that came with him. She never ran away from him, though, when he came after her to kiss her and pet her. She never hissed at him when he startled her from her sleep. And she never bit or scratched when he was over zealous. She just patiently waited her turn until there was enough room on my lap to squeeze into. And we were all happy.

Until this past week when it was clear that her health was leaving her in a bad state. As I held her for the final hour before making the decision to put her to sleep, she didn't purr. Not even once. I took that as her sign that she had given up.

For the first time, I've had to explain to Aidan what death means. No easy feat for a parent of a 3-year old. Aidan proudly tells people that he has TWO kitties whenever someone mentions a dog or a cat. He's so happy to raise his two fingers up and tell people that. One his MANY daily questions is to ask where the kitty is--no matter where we're at or what's going on. (Because at 3, he is the king of questions these days.) Especially since these last 6 months or so her life mostly consisted of nothing but finding a warm place to go sleep in and bide her time. She was not always easy to locate.

So I have been trying to deal with not only the kitty's death, but how best to teach such a young person what death even means. I realize it's something that I don't want to have to explain to such a sweet, innocent person. Only lately have I realized that I have avoided using the words 'dead' or 'death' to Aidan. When trying to explain why a toy no longer works, I've found myself telling him the longer explanation that mommy has to go to the store and buy batteries so we can replace the batteries that don't work rather than just simply saying "the batteries are dead". But alas, I have been forced to reckon with this issue far sooner than I ever anticipated since we've lost kitty.

Yesterday, when he asked about her yet again, I simply said the kitty died. And then started the series of "why?" So I decided to take it further and tried the response "Kitty was really sick." He came back with "I'm sick too" (which he has been all week). So, oops, I better be careful how I proceed.

Then I tried "Kitty went to sleep and she's not going to wake up again." Ok, he didn't have a comeback to that. So I took it even further and said that we dug a hole in the ground and we put kitty in the ground. And then I got a whole series of comments: "Is the kitty going to eat dirt? I don't want to go in the hole. I don't want to eat dirt and mud." Sigh. So maybe I shouldn't have tried to explain the reality of death just yet.

I haven't gotten the 20 questions about the kitty today, so maybe something I said worked. (Or traumatized him! lol). Or maybe my teary-eyes and cracked voice did more to explain where kitty went than my words. We'll see as we progress through the next couple of weeks.

In the meantime Weasel, know that your life made a difference to me, and Aidan. And even to Kevin too. The photo-art project I never got around to completing just got moved up the priority list and your sepia prints are about a day away from being hung on the wall. Right above your favorite warm spot to sleep in. We miss you already!