On July 6th of this year, I had to do the hardest thing I’ve encountered in my life: I had to put my beloved cat, Clark Kent, of nearly 16 years (3 days short) to sleep. He had developed kidney disease; his liver was beginning to fail; he had a lesion on his lung; and his levels were all moving in the wrong direction.
I put up a memorial page on evercats.com. Sadly, the picture posted there is the only one I had available when I wrote it; it doesn’t show how beautiful a cat he really was.
I can’t believe how much I miss him, over two months later. I thought losing my dad was hard, and it was (and is). But I still cry for Clarkie. Not every day like the first couple of weeks, but man, I never knew how attached to that little creature I was and still am. I still hear him walking around, rustling paper. Fortunately, I don’t feel him jump up on my bed, but I have felt paper brush against my leg, and for a split second my thought is that it’s him. Then reality crashes in.
I know in time I’ll not cry (as much), but I’ll remember him fondly until my brain stops working so well. Goodbye, little buddy.
