Thursday, July 10, 2008
Putting your cat to sleep? Do what any of us would do. Have a potluck? Okay, having a party for a cat that's about to die may seem a little strange, but then you don't know this cat. Terrance "Terry" Barrow, born sometime in 1987, 20+ years
I've said it before here and I'll say it again, I am not a cat person. I don't hate cats, I feel weird about hating any animal, it just doesn't seem right. But I am not a fan of them. I have an extraordinarily large amount of clothing and I live in fear of a potential pee cat. Working for years at Beacons Closet put me face to face with the aftermath of the pee cat more than once. Customers would bring in trashbags full of clothing that had been drenched in kitty urine. It was, without a doubt, the gnarliest part of the job. Even gnarer than that time I found an antique colostomy bag. That smell is the worst and I've smelt it become the ruination of many a messy catlover's wardrobe.
Personality-wise I have no qualms about the little beasts, in fact I kind of prefer demon cats to friendly lovey-dovey kitties. Asshole cats are sort of the best, half-wild motherfuckers who hang out, destroy vermin, and want nothing more than to fight, eat, and roam. Needy attention-hungry cats are the worst. They are always walking around with their tails in the air sticking their cat asses in your face even if they aren't in heat.
But Terry was a different cat. Elderly and somewhat indifferent, he'd cruise up to you when you walked in the front door and meow "hello" in his ancient cat voice. Cock his head and look at you impatiently until you responded with a scratch under his chin. Then he'd walk away with his stiff old gait apparently satisfied and hide back in a corner somewhere. He was a wise old dude, seemed tired by living, but still kept going. But it was obvious he was slowly wasting away. He got skinnier and skinnier and lost his ability to make it to the litterbox on time. He seemed as though he was in pain and depressed and so Angela had to make the bummer of bummer decisions. This past Thursday she put Terry down. But not before we had a Bury Terry party.
Old dude chillin by the bathroom
Will fryin plantain patties