This is not a Day of the Dead type of story (sorry). This however, is a story that is perfect for the Fall/Halloween season.
Last year I got woken up by a call from my mom and I could immediately tell that something was wrong because she woke me up at an ungodly hour (okay, I was getting up for work in 10 minutes but…) and she had been crying. The gist of what she said was that my (our) cat had gotten hit on our road and had died.
Let’s backtrack for a second though: I haven’t talked a lot about my first cat on the blog yet. Ricky is part bengal cat and we got him from my aunt’s and uncle’s farm the summer of 2010, the year I was going away to college. Trust me, having a new kitten at home made me reconsider going to college! Just kidding. But it was even more exciting to come home every few weekends and see how much he had grown.
At the same time we also got his sister who was a bobtailed cat (so cute!!). Of course we had to name her Bobby to go along with Ricky. You get bonus points if you know that reference. Sadly, Bobby didn’t make it very long and we think a bird of some sort carried her away thinking she was a rabbit due to her lack of tail. After crying about it for a few nights and hoping she would turn up I layed the memory of Bobby to sleep, Ricky became Ricky Bobby.
Ricky is a character. There is no other way to describe him. He is the King of the Farm and often sneaks into the house and runs straight for the kitchen before we can catch him. While I was studying abroad my mom taught him how to stand up on his hind legs in order to get the cheese that she was dangling in the air. She also used the “standing on his hind legs” ploy to get him to “text.” It was hilarious. Every few years my father paints the roof and the last time he did he wondered where Ricky was (he generally supervises from the ground) and lo and behold, Ricky was climbing the ladder up to the roof to be with Pop.
Now that you have a little more background on Ricky let’s get back to the story. I was absolutely devastated to hear this news and immediately began to cry. I even shocked myself by how devastated I was by the loss of my cat, honestly, you would have thought that a human had passed away. I cried the whole way to work and thank goodness I was opening so I had an hour of alone time to sniffle while I got everything ready. I was miserable. All I could think about was how I would never see him again, or hear him meow or see his crazy antics. I also couldn’t believe that my genuinely intelligent cat had gotten himself run over after so many years. Sorry to all of the customers that I served on the verge of tears that day – it wasn’t you, it was me. When my good friend and co-worker finally came in I told her that I needed a hug because my cat had died.
Almost 7 hours later my shift was about to be over when I felt my phone buzz with a phone call. I thought to myself, “What else has gone wrong today that require a phone call while I’m at work?” After the phone call passed and I had a free minute I listened to the message that was left.
“Svet, Ricky’s alive!” Que happy sobbing on my part. “Pop and I just got home and he was waiting for us on the porch! I was so upset when I saw the cat on the road that I must have mistaken him for Ricky and so did Pop.” So there you have it. I spent a day being distraught because my parents are blind (kidding!!)
The good news: my cat is still healthy and the King of the Farm. Also, after almost a whole day of mourning him I feel like I couldn’t possibly mourn him any more when he does pass (hopefully at a ripe old age).
Did you ever think a pet had passed away when they hadn’t?