Vesta Goes to the Happy Hunting Grounds
7:20 p.m. - 2003-09-09
Today was shit.
Alan came home and spent the night last night, but due to him arriving late (he managed to take a shower, eat, see his wedding ring that FINALLY came in, and pass out) and leaving early (5:30 a.m.) I didn't see much of him at all. Still it's comforting to wake up in the middle of the night and be able to roll over and cuddle with your honey. Mmmm...it doesn't get much better than that.
As he was leaving this morning, I reminded him to be sure and let the cat outside. He held the door open for her, and she bolted out. Then he kissed me goodbye and left for work.
After my shower, my morning makeup routine, getting dressed, and packing my lunch, I headed out to my car around 6:45 am. I noticed Vesta lying in the driveway, all lounged out and comfy looking like she normally is. I walked over to her to scratch her on the belly, and as I drew closer, I began to realize that something was very, very wrong. She didn't start writhing in that, "Oh, pleeeeaaaaaaseeee come scratch my tummy" sex maniac way, nor did she let out a string of "Mau"'s on my approach. Instead she just lay there, wide eyed.
Something's wrong with her. Oh God, what's wrong with my cat?
"Vesta? Veeeeesssstaaaa? Here, kitty kitty. Heeeeerreeee kitty. C'mon kitty!"
Nothing.
I got withing about eight feet of her and stopped still. Her eyes weren't gazing at some bug flitting across the ground. They were wide open, looking into space. And what was that on her nose?
"Oh my God. She's bleeding from her nose." My cat is dead. Dead. My sweet little kitty cat...who the hell did this? What HAPPENED?
Suddenly, an epiphany.
Alan. Hit her. With his truck. Slowly I started piecing it together in my mind, and I started crying. Sobbing. Huge, gulping, racking sobs that surely made the neighbors think that I had just found out that I have a terminal illness, or that my husband had just been killed in a car wreck, or something equally bad had occurred from the time I stepped out of my door until I made it over to my cat who appeared only to be lounging in the driveway.
Frantic, I got in my car and called Alan. Thankfully he picked up.
"Y-y-yooooou k-k-kiiiilllled V-v-Vesssstaaa! You ran OVER h-her! Didn't you f-f-feeeeel it-t?"
"What? I didn't run over the cat. What are you talking about? Someone else must have hit her. Are you sure she's dead?"
Ummm....yes. She's dead, you imbecile. No, I didn't go TOUCH her or anything, but I've seen plenty of dead animals before, and trust me, my pretty kitty is no longer inhabiting this earth.
"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do it...you know I didn't mean to do it, right? Call your brother and see if he'll come do something with her."
"Just what the fuck do you propose I have him DO with her? You want him to throw her in the trash can? You want him to haul her off down the road? MY. CAT. IS. DEAD. Jesus fucking Christ...this is all I needed today. *sob* Whatever. I'm calling him."
"I'm really sorry, I swear I am...I didn't mean to...I had no idea."
"I know you didn't purposely run over the cat, Alan. But it fucking sucks that it happened, and that I walked up to her, and that my cat is DEAD. I'm calling J."
So I called him, and being the wonderful brother that he is, he came straight over to my house and took care of the burial. Thankfully I was in school and had 20 screaming heathens to take my mind off of it.
I miss her tonight, though. I wish I could just hear her screaming to get in, or see her lying so comfortably in her big blue chair. I'm going to miss her weird little tics--the way she would practically make love to a wall, and the way that she and Lily would wrestle. I think Lily is actually pretty depressed about it too...she's acting rather strange.
Please, God, let things get better. I'm stressed to the breaking point, and I don't know how much more of this kind of bullshit that I can take. Send some light and happiness my way, please.
Love,
Me