Goodbye, Selena.

Well, yesterday we finally made that trip over to the vet. We had to put her in a pet taxi because she wouldn’t be cooperative otherwise. It was so difficult to listen to her meows knowing that it would be the last time I’d hear them.

Twenty years–that’s how old she was. I grew up with this cat. Literally, I’ve known her my whole life. I totally agree with Cesar Milan who has said that, as humans, we should not treat animals like humans. Although we love to display love and affection, the act prevents our humanity of being that boss to the animals. That’s totally true. However, I say that things that one loves do not need to be living in order to be significant in one’s life.

Twenty years–that’s my infancy, childhood, adolescence, and a step into adulthood. The other day, I went through a big cardboard box full of pictures determined to find a few photos of Selena and myself. I remember seeing pictures of when I was maybe 3 and I was grasping her in my hand. When I was about 5, I once fell asleep and she curled up on my head. I wasn’t able to find either, but I’m sure they’re around this house someplace. I did, though, find some with Nikolai and Kirstiana.

I won’t lie: I did cry. My dad and I were in the same room with Selena as the vet prepped for the procedure. I didn’t want to let go of the pet taxi. As soon as Selena and I saw each other, she stopped meowing. I didn’t want to do it anymore. But, it had to be done.

Twenty years–and then she was gone. The procedure was quick. The situation was beyond me. When I think of death, I think about “buried and in the ground.” Here, she was moving one moment and then, in the next, was not. She didn’t struggle. She didn’t feel pain. I couldn’t stop the tears from coming out.

She was the subject of my personal essay. I was just reading through it and realize just how hard I was trying as a writer. The piece is severely overwritten, but fitting for a young writer just trying to impress Universtity readers.

While I’m drowning in work, Selena is lying on my bed, composed and sound, wrapped like a little grey and white fur-ball, despite the turmoil just beyond the door. I look at her in despair and she looks up and meets my eyes with an unparalleled coolness that’s calming on contact.

“Chill, Winston. Chill.”

[...]

Looking back at everything up to now in my life, I realize that I couldn’t have survived it all without that little feline that I love ever so much. Unfortunately, Selena is getting old now and slowly succumbing to senility. She’s gradually coming to terms with her tender age of seventy-six cat years and needs to rest. She drags under the pounds that she has gained from the Meow Mix and sleeps most of the day. In fleeting life, her green eyes seek comfort from her docility. She now looks at me with despair and I meet her eyes with an unparalleled repose,

“Aww. Relax, Selena. It’ll be okay.”

Thank you, Selena, for the memories. I’ll never forget how small you were when I first held you; you fit in my baby socks. Thank you for the shed fur all over my clothes. Thank you for waiting for us to get back home from long vacations. Thank you for being our rodent solution, inside and outside. Thank you for the leftovers of those rodents; you’d always eat the heads–the best parts–first, but thank you for sharing. Thank you for being there through tears and joy.

Thank you. I love you.

With Kirstiana

Keeping Nikolai company.

Good-bye.