I know I shouldn’t be crying so much over a cat. At least… that’s what society would have me believe. So I keep the tears inside, put on a brave face, and become a sturdy rock while everyone else is allowed to cry.
Yet he was my baby too. He wasn’t just a cat. I raised him for nearly his whole life. He was supposed to turn 10 years old in May. Yet he wasn’t able to make it to even April for when his younger brother and sister both turn 5 years old… But society says I shouldn’t cry over an animal. They say a pet can’t equate to an actual human child. Pets aren’t sentient enough.
Yet he always came to me when I was having a rough day. He’d paw at me when my blood pressure rose too high. He would give cuddles and head bumps to remind me someone still loved me. How is that not equivalent to a child?
It’s been nearly a whole month since I had to say goodbye. Nearly a month since we brought your ashes home. Yet, because it’s ingrained in my head from years of repetition, I still don’t think I’ve truly let myself cry. You really lived up to your name, Super Fred. You saved me and my husband on so many occasions just by being there with us.
I keep questioning myself. Did I make the right choice? Should I have held on a little longer? Would you have wanted this? Would you ever forgive me?
I know in my heart that I did the right thing. I know I made the right call. Yet you’re no longer here and it’s so hard to exist without you here. I used to see you rush into the front room to perch like a gargoyle on the arm of the couch. Just so you could turn to look at us and greet us in the morning. I used to feel you curl next to me on the bed when I’d get sick, just so I had someone near to help me sleep. Your sister tries to do this for me but she’s grieving too. You were her nap time companion after all.
People may say you were just a cat. Those people have never had a cat like you. You were my baby. Now you’re gone. I feel like I’m barely keeping myself together and I still need to be here for your siblings, Yao & Yang. Yet I don’t even know if I’m doing enough for them. You dad says I am. My mother says I am. Yet, having lost you, I don’t know if I’m truly good enough anymore.
Despite all this, thank you for being in my life Fred. Thank you for being such a wonderful boy. I’ll miss you and love you.
So long and goodnight.
Super Fred
05/2015 - 02/2026
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