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Sunday. 8.19.18 10:39 pm
My cat, Doc, died on Friday. He was ten. My wife and I were laying in the couch watching anime, and we heard a howl, unlike any I’ve heard before. We jumped up asking what was wrong, and he could not move. He howled again and again, then stopped. We yelled for him. I picked him up and cradled him, and saw the terrified look in his eyes. I felt his whole body quivering as I rocked back and forth telling my wife that I didn’t understand what was happening. His shaking stopped and his eyes glazed over. “He’s gone,” I yelled, still rocking, while my wife frantically tried calling emergency vets to figure out what to do. I tried to breathe air into him, but it didn’t work. “He’s gone,” I cried. Our other cat, Gus, sniffed Doc, but was also terrified, and he backed away into the other room.
We gently placed Doc into a carrier and drove to the emergency vet, crying our eyes out all the way. The vet confirmed that his heart had stopped, and stated that cats of this age sometimes have undetected heart disease and he could have had a blood clot.
Doc was the first pet I had that was mine. I picked him up when he was a kitten from a place I found via a penny saver ad. There were a few kittens there. He was standing next to his bowl full of food, and out of nowhere he slapped the bowl and sent the food flying everywhere. “That’s the one.” I said.
He was a crazy cat. He loved running around outside when I lived with my dad. He took a while to warm up to Gus but became a great big brother to him in time. He loved running around our house.
Minutes before he passed, he was sprinting all around the house as if out of nowhere, and it reminded me of when he was a kitten. So crazy.
I love him and miss him terribly. I wasn’t ready for him to go, but this shitty universe is beyond my understanding.
This year I lost my grandfather, my unborn child, and now Doc. I hate this year. I really fucking do.
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