On Tuesday morning we awoke to find our beloved cat, Scamp, in physical distress. We dropped everything and rushed him to an emergency veterinary clinic. There was a mass in his stomach so significant that they couldn’t determine where it began, and fluid buildup in his lungs. He was pale, physically weak, his heart rate was low, and was having great difficulty breathing. We made the painful decision to put him to sleep and ease his sudden suffering that he would likely have never recovered from.
Scamp was a significant part of our lives, as all beloved pets are. He was always beside me or my wife, never wanting to be off on his own for very long. We could always count on seeing him somewhere nearby, if not directly underfoot. “Aw, Scamp” was a common phrase around the house when we’d see him lazily sprawling out across the floor, the furniture, or our laps. Suddenly not seeing him anywhere and everywhere has been jarring.
I’ve been an emotional wreck. I spent much of yesterday ugly-crying. Scamp would always climb into my lap when I would be working on comics, or stretched out between my legs when he needed a change of scenery. He was my constant work-buddy (and supervisor) and having him get in the way was part of the routine that I cherished. Yesterday, the day after his passing, was the first time I sat down to that routine without him and my heart broke into a million pieces.
But I’m not as much of a wreck as I could have been. Last year Scamp had a significant health scare and we thought we were going to lose him. We’d gone so far as to prepare to contact an at-home euthanasia service. Miraculously he bounced back, and since that time we established a rule to cherish every snuggle and sprawl we had with him. It became a golden rule in our house that if Scamp was lying on you or leaning up against you, you weren’t allowed to move him. Chores and responsibilities were shifted to accommodate this rule. We’d come so close to losing those cuddles and affection that we made it mandatory to cherish whatever time we had left with him, and make certain we recognized it.
I am so glad we did that. While I miss Scamp more than I can properly express, the one emotion I do not feel is regret. We made certain that cat knew how absolutely loved and adored he was, right up until it was time to say goodbye.
Sixteen years is one hell of a run for a cat, and I am grateful for every one of them with Scamp.